


The Bull's Pen

by LadySummerisle



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, BDSM, Bondage, Choking, Device Bondage, Drinking, Drunk Sex, Dungeon, Electricity, F/M, Flogging, Leather, Leather Kink, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Rope Bondage, Sex workers, Size Difference, Size Kink, Slow Burn, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, Work In Progress, modern day AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-25 16:31:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 57,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4968190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySummerisle/pseuds/LadySummerisle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inquisitor Malika Cadash was fine being alone as long as she could indulge in her favorite guilty pleasure: hardcore Qunari BDSM videos, but everything changes when she recieves an email advertising a dungeon based in Val Royeaux called "The Bull's Pen" As soon as she sees the owner and lead Dom, The Iron Bull, Malika knows she's in for a ride.</p><p>This takes place in a modern AU where almost everything is the same except for the addition of internet, electricity, cars, etc.  I attempt to stay as close to canon as possible except for the more obvious liberties I've taken.  Some tags are for later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Privacy Settings

Malika sat at her desk with her head in her hands.  It had been a long day; every day had been since the attack on Haven.  They would have been lucky to have simply made it out alive, but fortune smiled on them and Solas, the mysterious elven apostate, knew just the place to go.  If only he had told her of it beforehand; perhaps they could have moved earlier.  It could have saved countess lives, as well as the tremendous effort of immediate, mass relocation; carrying little to nothing from Haven.  Still, she tried to appreciate the little things.  Most importantly, the fact that after weeks of feeling completely cut off, they finally had internet!

Malika got up and double checked the lock on her door before she went to her bed with her laptop in tow.  With girlish delight, she looked over her shoulder one last time before she set her browser to “incognito” and began to search.  Since joining the Inquisition, she’d had little time for personal pleasures and only a narrow field of whom she might enjoy them with. Solas was attractive, but he seemed less than interested.  Sera was a terrible flirt, but she was just too young.  Blackwall hung on her every word...but no.  No one she met had quite fit the bill, and of course, none of them could fulfill her most desperate fantasies.

_ qunari dwarf bdsm _ , she typed into the search bar.  Nothing good, mostly male dwarves getting their junk beat up by their Qunari mistresses...typical.

_ male qunari dwarf bdsm _ _.  _  Nothing.

_ male qunari female dwarf bondage _ _.   _ One shit video.

After searching for a while longer she gave up and switched “dwarf” to “elf,” and found something that would work.  A skinny, blonde elf was bent over and tied to a padded sawhorse. She was whimpering into a gag when her Qunari master entered.  He wore no shirt, showing off his grey skin, bulging muscles, and impossibly huge cock straining against the leather of his pants... _ mmm...leather _ _... _ Malika snaked her hand between her body and the mattress and began to rub herself in hard circles above her clit.  She watched as he took his bare hand--almost the size of the elf’s entire ass--and spanked her hard, earning a muffled cry.  He repeated until she was red, then slowly he unleashed himself.  He went to her mouth and pulled out the gag, replacing it with his length.  The elf choked as he reached over to finger her cunt.  His body was so vast, he could easily do both at the same time.  When he was satisfied with her mouth, he came around and pushed into her hard.  She cried out as she took him and Malika sped up her pace, thinking of what it might feel like to actually fuck one of those incredible horned giants.  

She had never even spoken to one, although she had seen them in Kirkwall when she was younger.  They were either part of the Qunari squatters occupying the docks or they were vicious Tal Vashoth rebels that she wouldn’t dare go near...but she wished she could. Ever since then, being with one had been such a fantasy, but one she didn’t imagine would come true...and that was fine.  She was plenty attracted to all different sorts, but in the privacy of her bedroom, while no one else was around, she would indulge.

The Qunari was close.  He was twitching and erratic.  He came with a roar and Malika was close behind.  She grinded her hips into her hand and saw stars as she came to her first orgasm in what seemed like weeks.  Hardly capable of keeping her eyes open, she closed the window, shut her laptop and drifted to a peaceful sleep.

 

In the morning, Malika woke to her laptop staring her in the face.  Almost forgetting about her previous nights’ activities, it was like work and responsibilities were making a housecall.  She grumbled as she sat up, and decided to at least check her email before heading down to the kitchen for breakfast.

She scooted up to the head of the bed, placed the computer on her lap and opened it.  It was the usual crap.  Five emails from Josephine about various issues with visiting nobility, one email from Cullen titled “War room meeting” with nothing but a time posted in the body, cat videos from Sera, a heated rant about the state of the library from Dorian in the form of a mass email to the  _ entire Inquisition _ , and one email from Leliana titled, “This might interest you…”

When Malika opened the email, it was like her stomach had dropped out of her body.  “The Bull’s Pen,” read the attached image, “Val Royeau’s premier dungeon.  Private room rentals available and a diverse staff ready to cater to your most specific desires.”  The text was printed over a dim black and white photo showing the curve of a muscular shoulder leading to a thick neck, a pointed ear, an intricately embossed leather eyepatch, and the bottom edge of what looked like an impressive set of horns.

She sat frozen, staring at the image for a number of minutes, completely lost for thought.  On the one hand, she was horrified; absolutely mortified that Leliana had somehow found out about about her fetish; the wicked sneak must have bugged her computer!  How dare she!  On the other hand...dear maker...just one look at that vague silhouette was enough to make her cream her already cum-soaked panties.  Without giving herself time to overthink it, she clicked the attached link.

After scrolling through the first page that went on in vague language about confidentiality and safety and whatnot, she found the staff page then clicked on the “Dominants” tab.  Sure enough, there he was, the first picture.  

“The Iron Bull” _ ,  _ it read.  The Name seemed appropriate.  He was a massive hulk of a man, seeming even larger than the Qunari she had seen in videos.  His bulging muscles were packed under a thick layer of softness.  He wore no shirt in his photo, so she didn’t have to imagine a single crevice of his spectacular body, and crevices it did have.  In addition to lines from his muscles, he was covered in scars--a gnarled warrior type from his abs to his head where deep cuts came down all the way to his patched eye.  He was not the prettiest Qunari she’d ever seen, but the way he smouldered at her through the picture made her heart pound.

In a sudden panic, she slammed her computer shut and threw it off her lap.  What was she thinking?  She couldn’t entertain this!  She was the Herald of Andraste--The Inquisitor!  She couldn’t be sneaking off to some seedy brothel to fulfil her darkest fantasies; and furthermore, what was Leliana thinking!?  If she could see her search history then who else could?  The enemy!?  Corypheus!?  She bolted out of bed and threw on the closest thing she could find.  She needed to talk to Leliana.

 

When she reached the Rotunda, Leliana was sitting quietly amongst her birds, reading a report.  In her carta days, Malika would have scoffed at keeping carrier ravens on standby, but given the state of things, it actually seemed prudent to have a backup communication system.

“Leliana…” said Malika, as she slowly approached.  She tried to hide her stiff shoulders and pulsing heart, “Could we talk for a moment?  Maybe...outside?”

“Of course.” said Leliana, cocking her eyebrow and giving her a knowing smile.  She lead the way and Malika followed her closely behind.  She waited for the door to shut completely behind them before she spoke,

“What the actual fuck, Leliana?  What the fuck was that email?!” she attempted to say it quietly, but her aggression was rising.

Leliana laughed,

“You Marchers are so uptight.” she said, shaking her head, “What, are you afraid someone is going to read your emails?  Don’t worry, Inquisitor, I’m the only one capable of that.”

“Are you capable of seeing my search history, too!?”

“Of course!  I would hardly be doing my job if I didn’t know everything that happened within these walls.  Honestly, it’s a blessing that we needed to build a system from scratch here, it is much easier to monitor than Haven was and far more secure.”

Malika fumed silently for a moment, her cheeks red with frustration and the biting mountain air.  Leliana patted her head,

“There is nothing wrong with what you desire, Inquisitor.  I just so happened to have heard about that place and it seemed like it would fit your needs.  They have a good reputation for discretion, amongst other things, and you need to relax...that much is obvious.”

Malika moved to object, but then realized she was right--more than right.  Her brother always made fun of his angry little mabari of a sister, and the stress--the literal end of the world--was not making her any calmer.

“The chantry, though--the people--I have to be an example.  If word of this gets out--”

“It won’t--it shouldn’t--at least not for a while, and by then Josephine will have Thedas eating out of the palm of your hand.  The Inquisition will be such a force that nobody will question it--who knows, perhaps you will start a trend with the nobles.”

She blushed further, the idea of people knowing her sexual habits--emulating them--was...something.  It almost turned her on.

“Think about it, Inquisitor.  I have heard good things about this Iron Bull and you deserve a little fun.”

_ Iron Bull _ _ ,  _ just hearing the name sent shivers up her spine.  What must he be like in person if he already had such an effect on her?  She yearned to find out.

 

The rest of Malika’s day was quite mundane.  Meetings, plans, a discussion with Dorian about appropriate use of the email system--though he refused to admit he had done anything wrong--then to bed.  She tucked herself under the sheets, meaning to go straight to sleep, but found herself reaching for her computer in spite of herself.  The browser was already open to the picture of The Iron Bull, flexing his muscles and piercing her with his gaze.  Her hand found its way between her legs again and she closed her eyes, imagining a massive hand on her shoulder, pinning her down...watching his body move and breathe as his fingers entered her dripping core, prepping her for himself.  She found herself coming before she could even play out the entire fantasy.  She was certain that just  _ touching  _ him could put her over the edge.  She wanted him desperately...and she could have him.  She could.

She took a deep breath and opened a new email, to Leliana, no subject:

Make an appointment.


	2. The Negotiation

The days seemed to crawl between requesting an appointment and actually getting to go; although, all told it only took about a week.  It wasn’t hard to find a legitimate reason to visit Val Royeaux, and with a generous deposit sent in advance to The Bull’s Pen, they were more than willing to arrange a time, even not knowing who it was they were entertaining.  Leliana had communicated with them as an anonymous third party, letting them know that she intended to bring in an elite client who needed the utmost in privacy, so much so that their identity and affiliations would not be revealed until they met in person.  The manager of the dungeon, Cremisius, seemed unphased by the situation and charged them a standard fee to assure they would be completely alone when they arrived.  He had also sent along much more information than Malika had initially been expecting, as well as a questionnaire all about her limits and tastes.

According to the literature, the dungeon wasn’t quite what she was expecting.  First and foremost, “sex” was not allowed.  It wasn’t, as Malika had originally thought, basically a brothel that specialized in BDSM.  It was a bit of a relief, since it made the whole situation a little less illicit, but also left her confused as to what a “session” actually consisted of.  The questionnaire was very thorough, so much so that Malika felt uneasy giving it back to the spymaster to send along.  It detailed many of her deepest desires, and it made her nervous to think of the Iron Bull reading them.  Would they be compatible with his own, or would he find her repulsive?  Did he even take sexual pleasure in his work or was it all just another day at the office?   _ Maybe it doesn’t even matter what he likes _ _ ,  _ she thought as she filled out the survey, but then she thought about being on her knees, looking up at him while she sucked his massive cock...his muscles tensing from the pleasure until he spilled, hot and thick on her tongue.  She realized then that what he liked mattered a  _ lot _ .  

When they arrived in Val Royeaux, Malika and Leliana took a car on their own to the red lantern district.  Leliana had insisted on coming along, at least for the initial meeting.  Wearing hoods--and for Malika, gloves--to hide their identity, they drove until they found their destination.  It was a black building, completely nondescript except for a pair of bull horns painted in white on the door.

“Pull around the back,” said Leliana, “They’re letting us in there.”

They parked the car, drew up their hoods and approached the back door.  The butterflies in Malka’s stomach had butterflies of their own as Leliana rang the bell.  She hoped she could even _speak_ to the man once she met him.  She’d survived a giant explosion, gone forward and backward in time, fixed a hole in the sky and got out of Haven alive against all odds--surely, _surely_ _,_ she could talk to one large, sexy, horned man.

The door opened and they were greeted by a gorgeous young man with tanned skin and reddish brown hair.  He let them in and closed the door behind them.  The inside was so dark that it was hard to make out at first what was even inside, but when her eyes adjusted she saw that it was decadently appointed.  Almost everything was black, but the textures were rich and diverse; from the shining ebony floorboards to the black on black velvet wallpaper.  As they continued down the hallway, she saw chandeliers of smoky crystal and glimpsed into a door cracked open to see a bed upholstered entirely with black leather.  Anticipation grew in her belly.  Soon she could be inside one of these very rooms they were passing, at the whim of the Iron Bull.

“Cremisius, I presume?” said Leliana when they reached a stopping point.  They were in what looked like a waiting room lined with overstuffed leather sofas and chairs.  They both kept their hoods up and Malika stayed behind, remaining silent.

“That’s me, but you can call me Krem, it’s shorter.”  His voice was strange--sexy.  Soft, higher pitched than she had expected, but husky.  Malika wondered if manager was his only job, or if he ever performed...other services.

“Are we alone?”

“Just us...well, the staff is here, but they know to keep their mouths shut. Can’t stay in this business long if you can’t do that.”

Satisfied, Leliana let her hood down, causing Krem to raise his eyebrows.

“Sister Nightingale.” he said with a little bow, “So, you’re interested in seeing The Iron Bull?”

Leliana laughed, “Not entirely.  I’m merely the go between.  Your real client is much too precious to come here alone, even with your reputation.”  Leliana looked back at Malika and gestured for her to come closer.  She stepped forward let down her hood.  As Krem saw her, the corner of his mouth rose into a dazed smile.  For a moment she thought he was going to laugh out loud, but in a split second, the stupid grin was gone and he was all business again.

“Herald of Andraste,” he said, now bowing completely, “Inquisitor--Your Worship, forgive me, I wasn’t expecting...you.”

“Well that’s good news, at least.” said Malika, her smile betraying the nervousness inside, “Leliana went to great lengths to keep it that way.”

“Yes, of course.” he said, finally letting a chuckle eek out, “So, The Iron Bull, then?  Are you sure?  You know, we have a variety of Doms to choose from.  I could bring them out--”

“I’m quite sure.” she said, knitting her eyebrows...was he _teasing_ her?

“Ok, but--” with that a loud, insistent ring came from Krem’s pocket.  He pulled out his phone just enough to read the screen, smiled, shook his head and put it back, “I’m sorry, Your Worship, I’ll go get him.  Please, have a seat, I’ll only be a moment.”

When he left, Malika turned to Leliana, who was now walking the perimeter of the room, investigating.

“That was a little strange, wasn’t it?”  _ as is whatever you’re doing _ _ , _ she held back from adding.

“Be careful what you say, Inquisitor, someone may be listening.”

After a thorough check of the room that included moving couches and inspecting the potted black lotus in the corner, Leliana came to sit down.

“Looks like this room isn’t bugged,” she said in a whisper, “But I have no doubt Krem was.”

“Why would he have been bugged?  Do you think they’re agents of Corypheus?”

“Hard to say.  Perhaps they work for the enemy, perhaps they intend to blackmail us, or perhaps the Iron Bull simply wanted a head start finding out who his mystery client is.  Whatever the case may be, we might as well stay.  They already have plenty of information on us and we may be able to glean more about them.”

This new revelation added another layer of tension.  She hoped beyond hope it didn’t mean they’d have to leave.

After waiting another five or so minutes, the door opened, and there he was.  Sweet maker, he was massive.  He was so tall that he had to bend to fit through the door frame.  He wore an asymmetrical leather harness that crossed his chest, highlighting and enhancing his bulging pecs.  Beneath that was a thick belt and loose fitting trousers with fabric that draped at the sides, tucked into lovingly worn leather boots.  Malika stood at attention when he approached her, although dropping to her knees and worshiping his boots was another option she considered.

“Inquisitor,” he said, his deep, rich voice threatening to make her weak in the knees.  He held out his giant hand and she took it, feeling like a child in comparison.  He knelt down and kissed her hand, maintaining eye contact the whole time.  She couldn’t imagine how she must have looked, like a halla in headlights, she guessed.

“Welcome to The Bull’s Pen”

Malika stood dumbstruck for a moment, staring at him and reconciling it in her head that he was indeed a real person.  It was so hard to tell these days, what with the mark suddenly allowing her to dream and the barrier between the real world and the fade deteriorating.

“I...um...Thank you.” 

He gave her a wicked smirk and stood back up.  At full height, her face lined up just above his crotch.  _ Please don’t be an agent of Corypheus _ _ ,  _ she thought, and had to actively stop herself from saying it aloud.  He sat in a chair across from them and gave Leliana a nod,

“I see you brought your spymaster, that’s a good choice.  I don’t blame you for being on your guard.  There are people out there who would pay good money to know what makes the Inquisitor tick, but you won’t have to worry about that here.” He looked to Leliana, “Did you find any leaks when you were investigating us, Red?”

“None.” she said coolly, ignoring the nickname.

Malika couldn’t help but notice how he spoke.  Given his line of work, she expected him to be different.  She had been to “The Blooming Rose” in Kirkwall, and there it felt like every word spoken had been dipped in honey.  Conversation was measured to to titillate and entice, to grab hold and draw you into the bed chamber.  The Iron Bull, though...he talked like a soldier.

“Good to hear.  My staff are professionals, but from what you sent me, it looks like it’s just going to be you and me.”

“Yes,” she inadvertently said aloud in a whisper.  He let out a soft, low laugh,

“I think we’re going to have fun, Inquisitor...But before we get started, there’s one other thing.  Might turn you on, might piss you off.  You ever hear of the Ben-Hassrath?”

“A Qunari organization,” chimed in Leliana, “Similar to their guards and city watch.”

“I’d go closer to spies, but yeah, that’s them...Or well,  _ us. _ ” he said, sounding uneasy for the first time, “The Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the breach.  Magic uncontrolled like that could cause trouble everywhere.  I’m sure it’s not a coincidence that you heard about the Pen, we’ve been trying to lure your officers here for months.  Didn’t know we’d catch such a big fish.  I was ordered to court the Inquisition, try to get close to some people in charge and send back reports on what’s happening, but I also get reports from Ben-Hassrath agents all over Orlais.  If you still want to play, I thought I could propose a trade.”

“Wait,” said Malika, trying to wrap her head around the revelation, “You’re a Qunari spy and you just...told us?”

“Whatever happened at that Conclave thing, it’s bad.  Someone needs to get that breach closed.  So, whatever I am, I’m on your side.”

“You still could have hidden what you are.”

“From something called the Inquisition?  From the Inquisitor herself?  I’dve been tipped sooner or later; besides, what we do here is all about trust.  It’s better you hear it up front from me.”

“And what kind of information would you send home?”

“Whatever you can give me.  Ideally, something that will keep my superiors happy.  Nothing that’ll compromise your operations.  The Qunari want to know if they need to launch an invasion to stop the whole damn world from falling apart.  You let me send word of what you're doing, it’ll put some minds at ease.  And before you ask, no, I won’t be sending them any information on our activities here.  They don’t care if the Inquisitor’s a naughty girl who needs a spanking.”

Malika looked away, trying to hide her blushing smile.  In the heat of negotiations, she almost forgot why she was there. Questioning potential allies was old hat at this point,

“And what of these reports?” asked Leliana, “What will we be receiving from your people?”

The Iron Bull shifted in his seat and pulled an envelope out of his pocket,

“Enemy movements, suspicious activity, intriguing gossip.  It’s a bit of everything.” he handed it to Leliana, “This one’s on the house.  If you’re as good as I hear you are, you should be able to put that to good use.”

“We shall see.” said Leliana as she casually tore open the packet.

“That should keep her busy for the next hour or so,” said the Iron Bull, looking over at Malika, “You ready?”

She turned to Leliana, whose face was buried in the Ben-Hassrath report.  She looked up and nodded her head in blessing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come play with me on tumblr:  
> Fanfic/Art/Writing: ladysummerisle.tumblr.com  
> Fandom/Shitposts/Personal: malikafuckingcadash.tumblr.com


	3. Marks

The Iron Bull took her out of the room and closed the door behind them.  The hallway they had entered was dark, lit only by a few sconces with red, tinted glass covers.  To their left was a staircase that he gestured to and they slowly began to climb.  The feeling of him walking close behind her, inches away, was enough to make her forget the conversation they just left and remember why she was there.  For that body, for him.  To be taken by him, whatever that meant in this place.

“So, is it true that you’ve never been to a real dungeon before?” he asked, as if reading her mind.  His voice was softer now, deep and sultry.

“I don’t think so…” she said.  The Iron Bull let out a breath of a laugh,

“You don’t think so?  How could you not know?”

When they reached the top of the stairs, he stopped and leaned against the wall, looking down at her intently.

“Well, I’ve been to a brothel…” she said, mirroring him across the tight hallway, “A few times...ok, well, lots of times, but I think this place is...different?”

“It is.  First off, we don’t have sex here.  Plenty of forms of touching are ok.  I can spank you or touch you just about anywhere with a gloved hand, but there’s no penetration and no oral contact, with some exceptions.  A peck on the hand is ok, a kiss on the mouth is not.  I can feel your breasts, put on a glove and feel between your legs, but I can’t slip those fingers inside.  Understood?”

“Yes.” she said.  She was glad for the dimness of the hallway, as she was sure she went absolutely pink when he mentioned his hand between her legs.

“I will never hurt you without your permission, you will always be safe.  If you’re ever uncomfortable, if you ever want me to stop, say “katoh” and it’s over.  No questions asked.”

“Sounds reasonable.” said Malika, she tried to appear level headed, but the heat was building inside of her, whatever this was, whatever she had gotten herself into, she wanted to start.

The Iron Bull walked toward her, engulfing her in shadow, his hand reached out and pushed her hair behind her ear.  The simple act of his hand brushing against her skin was enough to make her gasp audibly,

“You don’t need to be afraid,” he said, bending down to be within an inch of her face, “Unless you want to be.”

“Please.” she said, ready to beg for whatever she could get.

He shifted and a door directly next to them squeaked open.  She hadn’t even seen it before, the hallway was so dim.  He gently guided her in before him and she took in the sights of the room.  It was also dimly lit with a few small, electric lights and one candle that filled the room with a delicious, spicy scent.  All around were implements she had only seen on her computer late at night.  There was a padded sawhorse, a cage and stockades.  Against the wall was a massive cross with rings attached at various points to aid in bondage, and up on the wall, every sort of flogging implement she’d ever heard of and some she hadn’t.

“You like the collection?”

“It’s amazing…” she said, still trying to take it all in.  There were corners of the room her eyes hadn’t even explored yet, and this was simply one room in the dungeon.  Impulsively, she reached up to touch a strange looking flogger with soft balls of fur on the end, but the Iron Bull grabbed her arm.

“Look, but don’t touch, little girl.” he said, turning her to face him, “You want to play with those?”

“Yes, please.”

“Be a good girl and maybe we will.”

He guided her by the arm across the room where he sat in a chair and centered her in front of him,

“Stand still,” he said, “I want to see you.”

Malika swallowed hard and focused on standing perfectly still.  First he brought her right hand forward.  She was still wearing her black leather gloves she used to hide her mark.  The Iron Bull unsnapped the wrist and pulled it off slowly by the fingers.  He inspected her hand front and back,

“It’s the other one.” she said.  He brought his hand to her face, crossing a finger over her lips in a wordless command to remain silent. It was all she could do not to part her lips and let it rest on her tongue. She knew that kind of contact was forbidden, so she stood motionless, her breath becoming more labored by the moment.

When he was satisfied, the Iron Bull moved onto her other hand.  He pulled at the glove with her palm facing upward and the green glow illuminated his face.  He inspected the mark closely, then gingerly slid a finger over it.  They shivered together from the electric tingle,

“Does that hurt you?” he asked, his breath still heavy from the shock,

“No.” she said quietly, trying not to say more than she was allowed.  She was used to the tingle of the mark by now and it was mostly that he was the one touching it that caused her to shake.  He ran his finger over it again and made a satisfied noise when she responded, then put down her hand and traced her body up to her neck.  He toyed with the clasp that held up her cloak, letting his finger slide behind to rub up against her throat.  Soon it was undone and falling to the floor and he moved on to her coat buttons.  One by one, he undid them.  It was so slow that Malika had to stay her hands from rushing through the last of them.  She knew he wouldn’t allow it, so she stood perfectly still as he undressed her.

After an eternity of button after button, he undid the last one, then reached up and pushed it off her shoulders.  All she wore underneath was a thin, sleeveless shirt.  He looked down to see the shape of her erect nipples poking through the fabric.  His giant hands wrapped around her torso on either side and he ran his thumbs over her breasts, causing her to whimper in return.  He laughed,

“Don’t wear a bra, Inquisitor?”

“I don’t like them...plus, I’m...small.”  On top, at least, she thought.  Her bottom was another story.

His hands sunk down to her waist and he pulled her shirt out of her trousers, then in a swift motion, lifted it above her head and threw it to the ground,

“That you are…”

He inspected her further, lifting her bangs so he could see the entirety of her face, then tracing her jawline and her collar bone, underneath the curve of her breast all the way down to her navel, stopping finally at her belt and waiting.  For what, Malika didn’t know, but he waited there with his finger hooked behind the leather, just teasing the skin of her lower abdomen until finally she couldn’t take it anymore and began to undo it herself,

“You _are_ a naughty girl, Inquisitor.”

“Yes, Ser.”

“Naughty, but polite.  I like that.” her trousers fell to her knees, still being held up by her boots.  The Iron Bull’s hands met hers at her hips when she reached for her panties, “I like Ser, but you can also call me Iron Bull.”

Before she could pull them down, he pulled her closer and turned her around,

“Take off your boots.” he said, and she bent down to do so.  As she fussed with the buckles that were awkwardly obscured by the fabric of her downed trousers, he ran a hand up her bottom, finally taking hold of her waistband and pulling her smallclothes down inch by inch until they nestled into the rest of the fabric around her knees.  She removed them along with her trousers and her boots.

Standing naked before him was the most intimate she had been with anyone in well over a year and it was more intimate than she ever thought she would be with someone like him.  If there was one thing she was confident about, it was her looks; her beauty had been the pride of her parents who wanted nothing more than a daughter they could trade to a noble household, but as she stood in silence, she wondered if dwarven beauty was wasted on the Iron Bull.  She glanced over her shoulder.  Nope, no it wasn’t.  He was ogling her backside with a half open grin.  They caught each other's eyes for a moment before the Iron Bull’s expression changed back to his devilish stare.  He turned her around, pushed her down to her knees and crossed his legs so that his boot was inches away from her nose.

“I saw you admiring these earlier,” he said as he moved his leg forward, caressing the side of her face with soft leather.  She leaned in automatically, letting her nose rub against it and take in the faint scent, “I thought maybe you would like to polish them.”

Malika looked up at him with wide eyes and nodded.

“Good girl.” he said, then reached behind the chair to easily find a polish kit and throw it to his feet, “And if the little girl does a really good job, she’ll get a reward.”

“Thank you, Iron Bull.” said Malika as she eagerly opened the jar of polish.  The scent was strong and went to her head, but she was used to it.  She was a rough and tumble sort of woman, but when it came to leather, hers was always meticulously cared for.  Bending forward to get close, she applied the thick, black paste and grunted as the Iron Bull shifted to rest his opposite heel on her back.  She strained against the weight and continued to work, determined to impress and oddly enjoying the feeling of him using her as a piece of furniture.

When she finished polishing the first boot, she sat up as much as she could and absent mindedly rubbed her cheek up against him, wishing his pants were just a little bit thinner so she could feel the musculature of his leg.  He brought it down and placed his foot in front of her; she brought her face to that, too, rubbing her nose into it.  She was becoming less reserved, more wanton.  She wanted to touch him, to see what his body felt like.  He nudged her.

“Get to work, little girl, you want your prize, don’t you?”

“Yes, Ser.”

She made quick work of the second boot, paying attention to every inch of the leather to assure his pleasure.  When she was finished, she sat back on her heels and waited for instruction.  He sat up and looked down at his boots, that shone in the dim light.

“Where’s that little flashlight of yours?” he asked and she gave him a confused look.  He reached forward and took her left arm, using her mark to aid in his inspection.  She had to stifle a laugh.  The mark was a thing of power; people looked upon it with reverence, some worshipped it and even if they didn’t, she didn’t know a soul who would dare grab her wrist and use it as a light source.  It felt wonderful.  It was like he had disabled it in one swift movement.  A moment ago she had been the Inquisitor, the fate of Thedas resting on her shoulders, but now...now she was a person who happened to have a green light coming out of her hand, nothing more.  The Iron Bull made a noise of approval.

“Nice work,” he said, letting go of her hand, “You’re pretty good at that.”

“I like leather.”

“Aren’t most dwarves more into metal and stone?” he said, tracing his finger down her jaw and tilting up her chin,

“Most dwarves worship rocks and think they’ll fall into the sky.” she said more aggressively than she intended.

“But not you?”

“I am not like most dwarves.”

The Iron Bull grabbed a fist full of her hair and guided her up from her feet.

“I don’t doubt that,” he said.  When she was fully erect, he stood and dragged her over to the wall mounted cross.  There was a platform beneath it that she had to step up onto and then he pointed to one of the binding rings.

“Hands here.” he said and she obliged, although the height of it left her at an uncomfortable bent angle.  Seemingly out of nowhere, he procured a length of red stained rope and began to tie her wrists to the ring.  When he was through, he gently stroked her back and hummed.  She crooked her neck to see what he was doing and saw him contemplating the wall of impact toys, finally deciding on a simple leather flogger.

He took it off the wall, whipped it at the air for a moment then brought it down to flicker across her back, dragging it slowly down her bottom to her thighs.

“Do you want it, Inquisitor?”

“Yes , Iron Bull”

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to flog me?”

“Do you?” he laughed, letting the flogger gently slap her rear,

“Yes, please.”

He let it fall again,

“Tell me how you want it.” he said.  He began to swing the flogger in a circle, softly hitting the same spot again and again,

“I want it hard?”

“Is that a question?” he asked, increasing the pace at which he flogged her bottom,

“No, I just...I don’t--”

“You know what you want!” he said sternly, bringing the flogger around at an intensity that made her tense and pull away, “So tell me what you want!”

“I want you!” she cried, “I want you to take me, ruin me, do what you will!  I don’t want to make any more decisions!  Please!”

“Good girl.” he said and his flogging began in earnest.  First he focused where he had been working before; bringing the flogger down with precision in one area then moving onto the next once it became red and tender.  After both of her cheeks were satisfyingly pink, he brought it down to her thighs, letting it lick the tender insides and making her squirm.  When he tired of that, he moved closer, stepping behind her and laying down some preliminary strokes on her upper back, then diving in at full force.  She bent further, shying away from the sting of the lash, but he wouldn’t let her.  He took her hair and held her up by it so she had no choice but to let the flogger hit deeper and deeper,

“Do you like that, Inquisitor?  Do you like being my little whipping toy?”

“Yes, Iron Bull, Yes!” she cried raggedly as the pain seeped deeper and deeper into her back.

“You’re a fucking sight.” he said.  He brought himself flush behind her and she thought, or maybe hoped, she could feel his erection through his trousers, rubbing up against her bare flesh.  With a thrust of his hips, though, she was sure of it.

“If only your followers could see you now...tied up here, getting whipped raw by a savage, grey Qunari, how would you like that?”

Malika moaned, not being able to muster words; all she could focus on was the pain, his voice and his hardness pressing up against her heat.

“Would you like that, Inquisitor!?”

“Yes!” she said, hardly knowing what she was answering.  She moved against him, begging for release and with a few more slaps of the flogger, it actually came.  Perhaps not a kind of release she was used to, but she felt her body tense and contract, finally leaving her limp as the Iron Bull finished with a few final swings.

Softly, he stroked her skin as he made his way to her hands to untie her from the cross.  When she stood she felt lighter somehow.  He brought her a blanket, then lead her to a seat that he sat far back on and patted the spot between his legs.  She sat, letting his incredible bulk envelop her,

“How’s your back feeling?” he said, pulling the blanket down a bit so he could run his fingers over the deep red patch,

“A little stingy…” she said, “But good.”

“Exellent.” he said, “You took that very, very well.”

“I try…” she said, then moaned as he started to rub her shoulders,

“Was everything good for you?” he asked and Malika laughed,

“Do you have to ask?  Of course it was...Maker’s breath…”

“Well, I do have to ask.” he said matter-of-factly, “It’s my job…”

“Was it good for you?” asked Malika,

“You don’t have to worry about me…” he said as he worked up her neck and started in on her scalp, “I’m always good.”

Malika hummed, but decided to keep her next comment to herself.  Even if this was all business, she still wanted him to enjoy himself.  It made her sad to think she could get such pleasure from him and not be able to return it, but she suspected digging deeper in that direction would get her nowhere.

They sat together for a while longer, talking about inconsequential things, until eventually Iron Bull guided her up,

“I’ll be right back,” he said, “and you should get your clothes back on, your spymaster is waiting.”

“Leliana, yes…”  She had completely forgotten and fought off a giggle fit thinking about her just sitting in the waiting room while she was getting flogged senseless by the Iron Bull.

He left the room and when he returned she was ready to go, complete with cloak and gloves.  The Iron Bull walked her back down the stairs and into the waiting room where Leliana raised her eyebrow at her from behind the Ben-Hassrath report she was still reading.  Malika gave her an uneasy smile and she shook her head.

The Iron Bull tapped her shoulder and when she turned around he bent low to give her a kiss on the cheek,

“See you next time.” he said softly into her ear.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come play with me on tumblr:  
> Fanfic/Art/Writing: ladysummerisle.tumblr.com  
> Fandom/Shitposts/Personal: malikafuckingcadash.tumblr.com


	4. To the Hilt

It was three weeks before Malika had any time to herself again.  After a brief return to Skyhold, her team immediately left for Crestwood to meet with Hawke’s Grey Warden friend and deal with the area’s multitude of problems.  Throughout her journey, especially the cold nights alone in her tent, her thoughts drifted to the Iron Bull.  Of course, there were moments between them that had been pure masturbation fodder: him removing pieces of her clothing one by one, the intense flogging that left her back tender to the touch for several days, the feeling of his hips grinding into her from behind until she went limp beneath him; but those moments weren’t what kept her awake at night, nor were they what caused her private smiles when her companions weren’t looking.  What she treasured the most about her time with the Iron Bull was how...simple he made everything feel.  He gave her a simple task to perform, one that she could actually complete...and the way he touched her...grabbing her, holding her, moving her.  It was like she was just a person, not some untouchable demigod.  Just being able to sit with him when it was all over, feeling his huge hands rub her shoulders made her feel more content than she had been in years...and that kiss...just the little peck on the cheek as she left.  She knew she shouldn’t dwell on it.  Theirs was a business relationship...albeit a confusing one that intentionally bordered on intimacy.  Deluding herself into thinking there was more between them would only hurt her...yet, she couldn’t help herself from bringing her hand to her cheek and closing her eyes, imagining his breath on her and the heat from his body, “See you next time.”

There had to be a next time.  As soon as Malika reached her chambers she sent an email to Leliana requesting another appointment.  They were leaving for the Western Approach soon anyway, might as well stop in Val Royeaux on the way…

After dealing with a few more issues, she found herself free, at least for the night.  Her fingers walked themselves down to her waistband, undoing her belt then moving lower to unzip her fly and finally dipping between her legs to feel where she was already wet.  Just sending the email to Leliana had gotten her heated up.  It started her thinking of what her next session might hold...but even more so, thinking about what they never would.  The Iron Bull taking her and pulling her onto his lap and spreading her legs wide, gently rubbing her clit and her folds while her hips bucked up against his hand.  He would tease her opening with the tip of his finger, just barely letting it enter,

“Do you want it?” said the Bull in her head and she nodded profusely.  Her eyes shut tightly to better aid in her fantasy, “Are you going to be my good girl?”

“Yes” she said aloud.  There was no one around to judge her, no thin tent walls inches away from her companions.  It was so blissfully private.

“I’ll do anything,” she said, “Just let me feel you.”

And with that, he would slide his finger in, breaking the binds of their agreement, making her his.  She plunged two fingers inside herself, letting them curl and hit that perfect spot inside, but it was unsatisfying.  Not real, not even close to real.  How tiny were her hands and how large were his?  She thrust in a third finger, but all it did was tease her, make her wish even more that it was actually him adding digit after digit in preparation for what she desired most of all.

She opened her eyes and looked around the room.  It hardly contained anything, most of her meager lot of possessions were left in Haven.  She escaped with only the clothes on her back and her daggers…

 _No_...she thought, holding her head while a stupid smile came to her lips, _no, I can’t do that...can I?_

She glanced at her daggers that sat in their sheaths on the couch to her right.  At least one of them had a handle that would do.  It was smooth and tapered, leading to a thick round pommel.  She looked around the room as if someone might be there to judge; but no, she was alone.

Tentatively, she climbed out of bed and over to the couch, picking up the dagger and detaching the scabbard from the harness.  Closer inspection only solidified the idea that it could work.

 _I can’t_...she thought, moving to place the dagger back on the couch, but she stopped.  She could.  She desperately, _desperately_ could.

Malika took the dagger back to her bed and undressed herself, shaking her head the whole time.  She sat down, propping her back up on a few pillows and brought it close to herself, sliding the cold pommel against her wet folds and closing her eyes.  Now she pictured the Iron Bull leaning over her, his face coming ever closer as he felt her up, teasing her with his breath against her mouth, daring her to meet his lips.  Of course, she would take his bait, colliding with him for a passionate kiss while he slipped his finger inside her.

She held onto the leather scabbard and pushed the hilt in slowly, gasping at how it filled her.  Maker, it had been so long with only her hands.  Carefully, she let it slide in, making sure she was correct about its smoothness.  She sighed as she felt it reach the end of the path, the cold cross-guard just barely brushing against her lips.  A curse quietly escaped her mouth and she pulled back to let it fill her again.  In her mind, she was kissing the Iron Bull while his long, thick fingers pushed inside her so deep.  He was gentle at first, but as her sighs became more wanton, he increased his pace, hitting hard against the back and angling up to hit that perfect spot again and again.  She was thrusting the handle frantically, red in the face and mouth agape as she thought about him,

“You gonna come for me?” said the Iron Bull in her head,

“Yes, yes, yes, please!” she cried out, then did.  She let the electric sensation take over her, starting between her legs, traveling up to her heart, finally dissipating with a pins and needles sensation all over her head and shoulders.  She bore down and wetness spread out beneath her over the bedsheets.  Taking the dagger hilt out, she relaxed against her pillows, letting herself pant and recover.  On her bedside table, her phone beeped and the email icon popped up.  Her sweet hiatus was over and it was back to work, as per usual.

She picked up the phone and half-heartedly skimmed through the text, reading a few sentences before what she was reading caught up with her brain.  She bolted upright, clutching the phone close to her face as she eagerly reread the message.

 

From: theironbull@thebullspen.com

To: mabari@inquisition.org

 

So, the little girl wants more, does she?  I knew I’d be seeing you again.  Red gave me this email, says it’s secure, so nobody will be seeing this but you and me.  I have an assignment for you:

In five days you’ll be seeing me again, so on every one of those five days I want you to take fifteen minutes by yourself, away from all your advisers and all the other people who want your attention.  In those fifteen minutes I want you to relax and think about what you want most when you see me and, in particular, what part of your body you want me to focus on.  I know you’re tired of making decisions and I promise, once we get started you won’t have to think about a damn thing.  Just make this one decision.  Where do you want to be touched, teased and tortured?  Make a choice, but be careful what you wish for.  I promise it will be good, but I can’t promise it will be easy.

You have five days, Inquisitor.  Be ready,

The Iron Bull

PS.

Mabari, huh?  I’ll definitely be making you my little bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr:  
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	5. The Second Visit

Malika knew exactly where she wanted to be touched by the Iron Bull, she didn’t need even need one minute to decide that.  She petted herself absentmindedly between her legs as she read through the message over and over.  The Iron Bull could contact her now, directly...and she could contact him.  She tried to think of a fitting response, but her nerves were overwhelming.  The thought of him writing to her...it must have taken him mere minutes to write this message she would be thinking about for days.  In fact, he must have written it while she was fantasizing about him.  A chill ran through her body as she thought of him crafting his message as she brought herself to orgasm, it was like his fingers _had_ been working on her after all.

She moved herself to the dry side of the bed--she would have the sheets changed in the morning--and turned off the lights, still clutching her phone and reading the last line of his message periodically as she drifted off to sleep.

 

Five days passed and she still hadn’t responded to the Iron Bull, but she _had_ pleasured herself to the point of soreness night after night thinking about their upcoming session.  She had to find a substitute for her dagger hilt.  Not only was it rubbing her raw, but it made her uneasy any time someone made a move to touch it.  Of course, she cleaned it thoroughly, but her stomach still churned when she thought of anyone finding out where it had been.

Back when she lived at home, she had a few toys of her own that she bought at a shop in Kirkwall, but Kirkwall was a long ways away and she didn’t feel like ordering them online just to have Leliana’s agents see them when they checked her mail.  She shook her head as she thought of Blackwall, always whittling something or other.  If she asked, she had no doubt he would make whatever she wanted...especially if it meant getting closer to her. After a few flirtatious jokes during one of their first conversations, he’d been practically smitten and she wished she could return his affections.  He seemed like a good man, but the way he doted on her with his puppy dog eyes, always making sure to mention how he didn’t deserve attention or praise...there was only so much of that she could hear before she began to believe it.  He could never give her what she really wanted.

No, what she needed was a shop, and she imagined there had to be one near The Bull’s Pen.  When her team arrived in Val Royeaux, she freshened up then left immediately.  Leliana had stayed behind for this trip, but told Malika that the information trade was going well.  She had already made use of some of the Iron Bull’s reports and he was satisfied with what she was providing in return.  In her stead she sent a bodyguard who said little, but rode alongside Malika as they made their way to the red lantern district.  She felt silly as she inched through the streets, eyes squinting to read every sign until finally she found something promising:

 _Intrigue: Fine Adult Goods_ , read the sign in small, crimson lettering.  Like all the good places, it tried not to make its presence too obvious.  She pulled into the parking lot behind the shop and entered through the back door.  Inside it was beautiful, ornate and rich as the central square of Orlais itself.  The ceiling was high with gold molding that framed a steeply pitched roof and all around were tables full of familiar yet strangely opulent merchandise.  Slimline vibrators plated in gold and lush lingerie trimmed in layers of feathers.  The proprietor watched her closely as she moved through, never letting her hood down or removing her gloves.

Malika wasn’t much for unnecessary frills and was happy when she found a section more her speed.  In a small room, tucked away up a spiral staircase she found what she could only assume was the “ugly” section.  Toys that didn’t look too impressive but were no doubt their actual bread and butter.  She walked up to a selection of carved, wooden phalluses of various sizes, picked one up and ran it through her hand.  It felt much nicer than what she had been using.  She picked up two: a smallish one for everyday use and one with some nice girth on it for when she was feeling adventurous.  She blushed as she held the larger one, wondering if it came close to what the Iron Bull was packing.  Hopefully someday she would at least have the chance to see it for herself, but it wasn’t something she could ever just ask him.

New toys in tow, Malika made her way down the stairs to pay.  The proprietor seemed relieved she was actually purchasing something and not grabbing the first expensive thing she saw and making a break for it.  She didn’t blame him.  Exiting the shop, her heart pounded.  Next stop was the Bull’s Pen and she was even more nervous than she had been her first visit.  The Iron Bull had become such a presence in her head since last she saw him that she worried in person he may not measure up...or worse, she wouldn’t...but the latter didn’t matter, did it?  For him it was just another job.

They drove the two blocks and parked behind the building, then went to the door where they were again greeted by Krem who took them to the waiting room,

“Welcome back, Your Worship.” he said as she lowered her hood, “The Iron Bull sends his apologies and says he’ll be a few minutes late.”

Malika cringed every time someone called her, “Your Worship,” but her advisors insisted it was necessary in order to build respect.  It felt like a lifetime since she had been called by her own name.

“Can I get you anything while you wait?” added Krem, “A drink?”

“Nah, I’m fine.” said Malika, dropping into one of the overstuffed, leather armchairs.  Her companion asked for some tea and Krem went to fetch it,

“Cremissius…” said Malika when he returned, “That’s a Tevinter name, isn’t it?”

“That’s right,” he said as he handed her bodyguard a cup, “That’s not a problem, is it?”

“Oh, not at all, I know a lot of great Tevinters.  I was just wondering how you ended up working in a Qunari’s dungeon in Val Royeaux.”

“Well, the first time I met the Iron Bull he saved my life.”

“Really?”

“That’s right.  I was in some trouble, trying to flee Tevinter.  A tribune and his men caught me in a bordertown tavern.  They meant to make an example of me.  Bull killed them.  Gave up his eye doing it.  Bull patched me up and asked if I was looking for work.  I’ve been putting up with his jokes ever since.”

“So that’s how he lost the eye?”

“Yes.  The guards had me on the tavern floor when Bull came inside and yelled for them to stop.  One of them saw trouble coming and figured he’d finish me off.  The guard had a flail, Bull put himself between me and the blow.  Big horned idiot…” said Krem looking away with clear admiration in his eyes, “Didn’t even know me.”

Malika was silent for a moment, in awe of the story.  The more she learned of the Iron Bull, the more impressed she became.  It was relieving to know that the man she was allowing to tie up and flog her was a good man.  A real good man.  Not just good when he had to be.

“Why was he even that far north?” asked Malika, trying to gauge how much information they shared.

“Probably on some business for the Qun, not sure...didn’t ask at the time.”

“Ah, so you know about him?”

“Most of us do,” shrugged Krem, “A lot of the staff knew him back when he was a mercenary.  He trusts us.  Plus he wants to be upfront about what he’s asking us to do.  We keep clients’ personal preferences confidential, but pass along any significant information we overhear, no one has much of a problem with it.”

“So, do _you_ take clients, Krem?” asked Malika.  He laughed uncomfortably and cleared his throat.  She thought she could see a faint blush coming to his tan cheeks.

“Hah...no...I...I’m just the manager.”

Before she could embarrass Krem any further, the Iron Bull entered the room.   _Maker’s breath_...it had been one month and she had already forgotten how big he was.  He bent as he walked through the doorway and then stood erect, showing off his massive shoulders and pecs.  Malika stood at attention without even realizing it.  The Iron Bull noticed and gave her a sideways smile.

“Inquisitor…” he said, then glanced around the room to see her bodyguard, who was absentmindedly flipping through her phone, “No spymaster today?”

“You’re not _that_ special.” said Malika.  Her eyes immediately widened when she realized what she had just said and the Iron Bull raised his eyebrow, his amused smile growing.  Being a snarky little bitch was her default state and she often had trouble stopping herself from immediately saying whatever came to mind...it was a habit that, as Inquisitor, she was trying desperately to break, “I didn’t--that’s not--I mean--I’m sorry, Ser.”

She dropped to her knees, eyes to the ground.  The Iron Bull laughed, bent over and offered her a hand.

“Don’t worry about it, Inquisitor.”  

Malika looked up and took his hand, allowing him to pull her up with ease.

“I’ll just take it out of your hide later…”

He lead her through the same door as the last time and they entered the dark hallway.  She turned towards the stairs, but as soon as the door clicked shut, she felt him pressed up against her back, his hand firmly grasping her throat,

“You know, little girl,” he said, his voice having changed from his casual tone to a deep, mean growl, “When I send a message, I expect a response.”

“I--I’m sorry, Iron Bull.” said Malika through ragged breaths of arousal.

“I know you’re a busy woman,” he said, letting his hand trail down her chest and over the peaks of her breasts, “It doesn’t have to be right away, it doesn’t have to be long, but next time you give me a reason to believe you’ve been _avoiding_ me--” he pinched her nipple painfully through her shirt, causing her to wimper and squirm, “I may not be so nice.”

“Yes, Ser.” she whispered.  The throbbing between her legs that had started as soon as she left the sex shop had now grown so insistent that she found herself clenching her legs together in a desperate attempt at relief.

“Good,” he said, letting her loose, “I’m glad we have an understanding.” he smacked her bottom and she took it as a signal to walk upstairs.

“Take off your clothes.” said the Iron Bull when they entered the playroom.  He sat in the same chair that he had when he undressed her the first visit.  She stood in front of him and began disrobing.  First her gloves came off, filling the room with her unavoidable green glow, then her cloak, her boots and at a slower pace her shirt, breeches and smalls.  When she was finished, the Iron Bull leaned forward and gently brushed her cheek with his hand.  She leaned into it, but he moved it quickly aside, pushed her to her knees and rested his boot on her shoulder.  She supported herself on her hands and looked to the ground.

“This is how I want you to begin every session from now on.  When we enter the playroom, I expect you to be naked and on your knees before I have to ask you for it, is that clear?” he moved his boot under her chin and propped up her face to look up at him,

“Yes, Ser.”

“Good girl.  Now, did the little bitch actually _do_ what I asked for in the letter?  Or have you really been naughty?”

“I did.” said Malika, looking down to the floor again.  She had been dreading this moment.  She knew what she wanted but was afraid to ask for it.  Maybe it would be too much, perhaps not even allowed.  She was still a bit confused by the rules of the dungeon,

“Look at me.” he tapped her chin up with his boot again, “Have you made your choice?”

“I...have.” she said, working hard to stop herself from looking down again.

“So, where are we focusing today?”

Malika mumbled under her breath, she couldn’t bring herself to say it aloud.  She felt like some novice virgin...she had never been this shy.  Between her legs, she could feel the wetness growing and was afraid it might begin to drip down her leg.  She pushed herself to speak, but nothing came.

“Is the Inquisitor shy?” The Iron Bull said with a condescending smirk.  Malika made a meek sound that confirmed his suspicion,

“Alright, you can be shy this time, but just because I think I know what you want.”  He slid his boot between her legs, letting it rest directly under her dangerously wet core,

“Am I warm?”  

Malika nodded with wide, wanton eyes and the Iron Bull slid forward in his chair, letting the shin of his boot crash against her flesh and grind into her,

“So you want me to play with your pretty, little cunt today, huh?”

“Yes!” she cried, giving in and lowering herself further onto his leg, she was sure she could come from this alone.

“Are you sure, little girl?  You might be regretting that choice later…”

“Please!”

 The Iron Bull shook his head, "Alright, can’t say I didn’t warn you.  Stand up.” he pushed her back with his knee.  She did what she was told and he pointed to a far corner where there was a bed on another raised platform.

“On the bed.” he said, “And spread your legs.”

Her heart pounded as she approached.  This one wasn’t upholstered in leather, but had luxurious silk sheets.  She climbed up and sat on the edge, her legs slightly parted.  The Iron Bull was busy looking through a drawer next to the bed.  First he brought out a towel and bent down to look at his boot. He tutted.

“Got me all sticky, naughty girl.”

“I’m sorry…” she said, honestly embarrassed... although, he was the one who put his boot there and he _must_ have known what would happen.  After cleaning his boot, he threw the towel in a basket and pulled out a pair of thin, leather gloves that were so tight it took him a moment to work his hands into them.  Finally he approached her and her heart began to truly pound.  After pushing some hair softly behind her ear, he held her head upward to look at him,

“Do you remember that word I taught you?  For if you want to stop?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“Katoh?”

He removed his hand.

“Did you mean that?  Do you want to stop?”

“No!” she cried, grabbing his hand and pulling it back to her face.  The Iron Bull laughed his low, slow laugh and rubbed her cheek with his thumb,

“Good girl.”

He pushed her back on the bed and her breath caught in her throat as he took her knees and pushed them up and apart.  There was no going back now, she was completely bared before him.  He leaned over her, placing a hand on the bed and she trembled beneath his truly awesome frame.  How she wished he would forget their agreement, undo his trousers and take her right there--but it didn’t happen.  He was slow, thoughtful and methodical.  He looked her up and down, tracing one finger along her inner thigh, teasing her.  Involuntarily, her hips bucked up towards him and he laughed,

“Impatient Inquisitor...what should I do with you?”

“Touch me…” she moaned desperately.

“I am.” he scraped his fingers against her thigh,

“Maker’s breath, you know what I mean!” she said and without thinking went to grab his arm.  He deflected her and bent over, pinning both arms to the bed,

“You either stay still or I’ll make you stay still, little girl.  Now are you going to be good for me or do I have to get the rope?”

 _Yes, get the rope!_ thought Malika, but she looked at his stern face and was desperate to please him.

“No…” she said meekly and relaxed into the bed.

“That’s a good girl.” He let go of her arms and put a gloved hand between her legs, letting it brush ever so slightly against her outer folds.  She shivered at the touch and held herself back from a more wanton display of approval.  Placing the palm of his hand on her stomach, he then let his thumb glide over her nether lips a few times, hardly using any pressure and never trying to delve deeper.  Malika’s eyes were almost watering as she restrained herself from trying to move as he pet her.  Her body was trembling.

The Iron Bull laughed again.  He was always laughing at her, teasing, making her feel silly and small.  It was torture...and she loved it.  She craved his wicked smile as much as she craved his stern growls and both of those as much as she craved anything else he could offer.  It was unreal how fulfilling a simple emotional response from him was...but it was.

“You're just a desperate little slut, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” she threw her head back into the sheets and shut her eyes.  She wanted to beg so badly, but she knew it wouldn’t help,

“Then maybe I’ll just give you what you want.”

At those words, Malika looked up again.  The Iron Bull knelt at the edge of the bed and rested his left arm on her body; she felt his thumb and forefinger delve gently between her folds and when they were deep enough he separated them, holding her open wide.  She thought she might begin to hyperventilate.  His hands were on her and she was utterly exposed.  His face was so close that for a moment she had the wildest fantasy he would dive in and lick her; but of course, that didn’t happen.  He took his other hand and without hesitation, brushed against her against her swollen clit.  She gasped and he touched it again, gently on the top.

“Does that feel good, little girl?”

“Yes.” she moaned, unable to stop herself from rhythmically wiggling her hips into him.

“How about this,” he slid his thumb up the underside.  She whimpered and struggled against her urge to back away.

“Aww, you’re a sensitive little slut, aren’t you?”  He did it again and she squirmed underneath him.  He laughed and began to rub her in rough, slow circles, using extra force as he came around the underside,

“Yes, I really am!” She agreed and backed away.

“Is it too much, Inquisitor?”  He stroked up and down the underside, focusing on the exact part that made her jump until finally, she sat up and pushed his hands away.  In the blink of an eye, he was over her again, one hand between her legs continuing to touch her too-sensitive nub, the other on her throat.

“I told you to sit still.  You can either control yourself and take this like a good girl or I can tie you up and you can take it like a bad one, what will it be?”

“I can’t!” she said as her hips bucked.  She grabbed at his wrist.

“So be it.”

He pinned down her chest with one hand as he reached to the side, pulling a length of rope out of seemingly nowhere.  Leaning on one half of her body, he grabbed her hand pressed it up against the inside of her ankle, he lashed her wrist to her ankle and the middle of her arm to her thigh then repeated on the other side.  The speed at which he worked was incredible and before she knew it, she was completely immobilized.  She struggled against the ropes, but it was no use.  She couldn’t move at all, and definitely couldn’t close her legs.  The Iron Bull got a pillow and arranged in beneath her shoulders so she was angled up, facing him.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked sincerely.  She stopped to take stock of herself...Oddly enough, yes.  The ropes didn’t burn or pinch and nowhere on her body felt stretched or strained.  Other than the immense dread she felt at more intense contact, she felt good.  She chuckled in spite of herself,

“Yes, actually…”

“Always tell me when something hurts...when it’s not supposed to, I mean...now where were we?”

His look changed back to his devious glare and he brushed the underside of her clit again.  She whined and strained, but it did nothing. She could hardly even twitch her hips.  The Iron Bull laughed and stroked her again and again.  It was painful, almost sharp like the slice of a blade.  She mumbled to herself and threw her head back, mewling like a cat in heat.  

“Is it too much?” he asked,

“Yes!” she cried out, desperate for him to stop but not willing to say the word,

“Well, that’s just too bad because it’s only gonna get worse.”

Malika looked up and saw him reach below the bed to pull out a small, leather slapper.  Three stiff slips of leather at the end of a handle, this flogging instrument hadn’t been on the wall, but that made sense.  It was tiny compared to the vastness of his hand.  It was just the right size for a small, controlled area... _fuck_ , thought Malika.

The Iron Bull stopped his rubbing and used one hand to hold her wide open again.  She whimpered,

“Let’s play a game.” he said as he slid the slapper against her open cunt, “I’m going to spank you ten times here.” he landed the instrument gently on her clit, “And I want you to count every hit.  If you lose count, we start over and when we get to the end I’ll move on to something else.  I may even let you have an orgasm.  How does that sound?”

She groaned.  It sounded agonizing, but the promise of an orgasm... from  _him_... there were few things she _wouldn’t_ do.

“Ok.” she said softly,

“Good girl.” said the Iron Bull, and with that the first blow fell.  Her stomach clenched and her legs strained at the ropes,

“One.”

“Very good.”

It fell again, slightly harder this time.  It was an incredible sensation, seeming both blunt and sharp at the same time and almost like he was hitting an area that was already bruised.  She was sure that the state of her arousal wasn’t helping,

“Two”

Slap.

“Three”

He intensity increased,

“Hmmmf--four--five--six--six--”

“What was that?”

“What!?” said Malika, she had been completely focused, “What?  I was counting, I counted!”

“Maybe counting’s different for dwarves but I’m pretty sure there’s only one six.”

Malika paused and thought back,

“Fuck…”

The Iron Bull adjusted his hand to make sure she was spread wide as ever, “Again.”

She tried to focus as the slapper came down, but he was not letting up on the intensity,

“One!” she said, hoping being loud might help her count.  It dropped again, nearly taking her breath away with the pain, but she persisted, “Two!”

Again and again it fell. She passed six, she counted seven then eight and then...blank.   _What the fuck comes after eight?_  Her mind blanked and she closed her eyes,

“Count!” said the Iron Bull, but she couldn’t.  She tried to close her legs in vain, she couldn’t start over but she couldn’t say the word, if only she could remember...eight...eight...eight…

“Fine, we’re starting over,”

“Nine!” she finally yelled then threw her head back in relief, but she should have known the last one wouldn’t be easy.  She could hear the air rush past the slapper as it came down one last, terrible time on her most sensitive spot,

“TEN!” she screamed, her breath ragged as her crotch throbbed with painful echoes of her spankings.

“Good girl.” said The Iron Bull.  He put his fingers through her hair at the side of her head and she nuzzled up to his hand, desperate for a gentle touch.

“Do I…?”

“Get an orgasm?” he said, “We’ll see…”

She groaned.  Another challenge, another test.  The Iron Bull walked to the side of the bed and she heard him fussing with something, then to her surprise, she felt the bed lurch sideways as he joined her on it.  He pulled her in to let her rest between his legs.  She arched her back to see if maybe she could feel him behind her, but was disappointed to realize there was a well-placed pillow between them.  Still, it felt good to lay against his chest, surrounded by his massive arms and legs.  He reached to the side and picked up what looked like a hefty, white back massager,

“You ever use one of these?"

“No…”  She had seen girls in videos use them, but had never seen the appeal, “I’m not really into vibrators.”

He laughed again,

“Well, you’ll be into this one, I think...either that or you may be using that watchword.”

He flipped the switch on the side and it started up.  It was so much louder than she expected and the vibrations were enough to make his arm shake.  He pressed it into her shoulder and let it slowly travel down her chest.  He held it at her nipple and she had to admit, it was better than she was expecting.  She let herself relax as he alternated between one breast and another, but then he got back on track to his final destination.  He pressed it in on the mound right above her slit and she could feel the intense vibrations already stimulating her.  He rubbed it in as it slowly descended, finally coming to rest between her lips directly above her throbbing nub.  He pressed it hard into her and made circular motions.  She let her head lean back into his chest and moaned softly.  He was right, it was good...it was really good.  She felt warmth blossom from the point of contact and she knew it wouldn’t be long before she came, but then he dipped lower, making direct contact with her clit.  She cried out and tried to close her legs, forgetting she was still tied open.  He laughed and started bouncing it on her, enjoying her little cries and screams every time he touched it.  He ran it up the underside and she thought she couldn’t take it.  Her hands clenched and her eyes shut tight.  She mumbled and cursed, but the assault continued,

“Is that too much, inquisitor?  Do you want me to stop?” he said, but she knew he was mocking her, he had no intention of stopping,

“Yes!” she said, even in the face of futility, “Please, it’s too much, please!”

“Good.” he said and flipped the switch on the side, causing the wand to vibrate even harder.  She screamed as he rubbed it up and down her clit, her legs begging to close and tears building in her eyes,

“Please!” she said, “Please, I can’t take it, please.”

“You want to be my good little girl, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

“You want me to own this pussy, right?”

“Yes, oh Maker yes!”

“Then shut your fucking mouth and come for me, little slut.”

She bit down on her lips and felt her whole body tense as he continued to rub the vibrator over her clit, occasionally stopping on the spot directly above to give her a much needed break.  She muffled her own screams inside her mouth every time he grinded it on the underside of her clit, but after a while she became accustomed to it.  Finally her body went limp in his arms and every stroke of the wand brought her closer and closer.  As if he sensed her submission, the Iron Bull stopped his torturous assault and focused on the one spot she enjoyed so much in the beginning, pressing into it hard and moving in little circles.  She was close.  She was so beautifully, desperately close when he took his free hand, and clutched her neck gently,

“Come for me,” he said.  And she did like it was the last orgasm of her life.  She twitched and clenched and sustained her climax for a minute or more as he kept up a constant pressure and rhythm.  When she was finished, her head lolled to the side and he turned off the device.  Taking her head in his hand, he angled it up so they could just lock eyes,

“Very good girl.” he said, and she sighed with blessed relief.

They didn’t move from their positions, but the Iron Bull began to untie her restraints as they sat,

“Was that what you wanted?” he asked as he pulled the rope off of one of her legs.  She laughed.

“Well, it wasn’t what I was expecting, but fuck… yes.”

“Good, wasn’t too hard on you?”

“You were...but I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

“You don’t look big to me…”  He had finished untying her other side and she leaned back, letting her elbows rest on his massive thighs.

“Sometimes it’s nice to feel small.”

“So,” he said, absentmindedly petting her hair, “I have to ask, do you like being the Inquisitor?”

“I do... It’s not easy, but it’s good to know I’m fighting for a good cause...and I know it’s a good cause because I’m the one in charge.  I’ve made a lot of friends, and it’s not like I was leaving much behind.”

“You don’t miss anything about your old life?”

“My old life was fucked.  My own family pretty much wanted me dead... but I do miss my brother.”

“Anything else?”

She thought about it for a moment as she leaned into his hand.

“Yeah, I guess there’s one other thing.  Nobody ever calls me by name anymore  Cadash, sure... Inquisitor, Your Worship, Herald, but I was a field agent for two years before the conclave happened and honestly, I don’t remember the last time anyone called me by my first name.”

“Malika,” said the Iron Bull, it caused a shiver that made her physically shake, “Right?”

“Yeah…”

“Good to know.”

After a few more minutes they got up, Malika began to dress and the Iron Bull excused himself.  When he returned, they walked down the stairs together.

“I’m taking care of some business in the Western Approach,” she said when they reached the waiting room, “But when I’m done... I... I want to come back.”

“You better,” he said casually, then leaned down to kiss her cheek, “Stay safe, Malika.”

“Yes, Ser.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're hooked on this fic and don't want to wait for the next chapter, consider reading my other work, "Malika Rides the Bull" same pairing and a lot of BDSM sex in the canonical Dragon Age: Inquisition setting ^_^
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr!  
> Fanfic/Writing/Art: ladysummerisle.tumblr.com  
> Fandom/Personal/Shitposts: malikafuckingcadash.tumblr.com


	6. Elemental Damage

“Is it true!?” The Iron Bull stood up from his seat on one of the overstuffed leather armchairs and ran towards her with unmistakable excitement in his eye, “Did you really slay a dragon?!”

“What?” said Malika, completely aghast at the enthusiastic greeting.  She had never seen him this way before, “I mean--yeah, yes.  I did.”

It was on her last day in the Western Approach, just two days prior to her return to Val Royeaux.  The mission had been long and arduous with too much sand and not enough water.  They had faced darkspawn, Venatori and even uncovered a grey warden plot to raise an army of demons, but on that last day was their most epic battle yet: the Abyssal High Dragon.  Bringing down the mythic beast was bittersweet, but it was glorious and Malika had the honor of making the killing blow, zipping fast behind the dragon’s head to deliver a deathblow to its neck.  The high from the fight was so great that while the rest of her party busied themselves searching for valuables in the belly of the beast, Malika sent a message to Leliana to see if she couldn’t make a quick arrangement for her in Val Royeaux on the way home.  As always, Leliana came through.

“You’re shitting me…” said the Iron Bull, now kneeling in front of her with his hands on her shoulders,

“Well, I mean, I didn’t do it _myself_ , it was my whole team, but we did!”

“Taarsidath-an halsaam!” he said loudly, clapping her on the shoulders hard enough to make her knees buckle, “Like a warrior of legend!”

The Iron Bull looked away and shook his head,

“I shouldn’t do this, but fuck it. I’m taking you out for drinks tonight!”

“You’re--what?” _Drinks!? With him_... She wanted to... more than anything she had ever wanted in her entire life... but she was recognizable and he was recognizable.  Even with all the work and all the hardship she had been through, this was the first time she ever wished she wasn’t the Inquisitor, “I... I’m so sorry, Iron Bull, but I don’t think I can do that.”

“Hey, if you really don’t want to, that’s fine, but if it’s about being seen, I know a place.  Dark, private, they’ll get us some seats in the back.  Just you, me and your friend.” he said, nodding towards the bodyguard who shrugged her shoulders, “I mean, keep your gloves on, that’s a dead giveaway in a dark tavern, but nobody will see you.  What do you say?”

Malika looked back at her bodyguard who seemed nonplussed--it wasn’t actually her job to make sure the Inquisitor wasn’t exposed, only to protect her from attacks--then she looked back at the Iron Bull.  He was a Ben-Hassrath spy, if he thought they could get away with it, they probably could... and turning him down... she would never forgive herself.

“Yes!” she said finally.  She would risk it.  The Iron Bull laughed and gave her another bracing clap on the shoulders,

“Good!  But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook for today,” He stood up and guided her towards the ever so familiar hallway, “It’s not every day a dragonslayer comes to play.”

He lead her backwards through the door and let it close behind them.  In the dark hallway he loomed over her, only the slightest glimmer of red light shining off the wetness of his one eye,

“Unless the mighty dragonslayer is to good for me now." He grabbed her jaw roughly and let his thumb tickle the flesh of her neck,

“No, Ser!” said Malika, already trembling.  The Iron Bull truly had a gift.  As soon as the door to the outside world closed, she was his.  He _made_ her his.

“Good to hear."  

When they entered their usual room, he went to his chair and sat back, legs crossed, reclining like a king,

Before he could say a word, she stood in front of him and began to unclasp her cloak.  He laughed,

“What an obedient little bitch, I didn’t even have to remind you.”

He watched as she pulled her gloves off one by one, then let the glow from her left hand illuminate her body as she peeled off her top.  She undid her belt and began to slide down her trousers but he stopped her.

“Turn around for this part.”

The way he says it sent shivers up her spine.  He liked this part; liked seeing her bent over and vulnerable as she took off her boots, liked the curve of her bottom and the peek he got between her legs... but he wouldn’t reach forward and touch her there, not now.  Not without gloves and all sorts of precautions to distance himself.  Maker, this was sweet torture.

When her boots were off, she got on all fours, then turned around to put her head at his feet.  He let his crossed leg slide down and brush against her cheek and she leaned in against it.  The scent of the leather was as intoxicating as ever,

“You have been a very good girl, Malika.” he said, melting her at the sound of her name from his lips.  His legs separated and he reached down to guide her up by the chin. She crawled towards him, steadying herself on the chair when she saw what he was guiding her towards.  Under the cloth of his pants, shadowed against his bare stomach was _him_.  Erect and straining against the dark fabric, she couldn’t make out an exact size but could tell that it was massive.

“I am pleased."

She could practically taste that evil grin on his face, she didn’t have to look.  Unable to control herself, she moaned aloud and nuzzled against it.  So stiff and warm, she had to hold herself back from crying and begging him to take her.  The Iron Bull pulled her back by the hair and laughed, “You really are a mabari in heat, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Ser.” she said shamelessly, her attention still on his bulge.  He allowed her face closer so her nose just brushed against him, then pulled her back again.

“Not today.”

“Then when?”

The Iron Bull pulled her up painfully by the hair, guiding her to a standing position and leaned in close to her face,

“No questions, little girl, I’ll tell you what you need to know.”

With that, he dragged her across the room.  If she hadn’t been in such a hurry to undress, she would have noticed the new table.  It was so tall that she could hardly see across it, but she could see that it was upholstered in leather with thick cuffs and belts attached to it at various places.  The Iron Bull lifted her onto it and had her lie down.  He took her hands and cuffed them close together above her head, then had her spread her legs so he could bind them individually.  He used a belt to secure around her waist, then adjusted the table and let it tilt forward slightly.  Her weight pulled on her wrists and her head sagged, giving her a good view of her bound and vulnerable body.

Next to her, the Iron Bull was turned around, retrieving something from a nearby drawer.

“All this talk about dragons got me thinking about... elemental damage…” an electrical buzz sounded and Malika’s shoulders tensed,

“... elemental damage…?”

“What did I tell you about the questions?” He turned around and in his hand was a device like she had never seen before.  A thick plastic grip with a dial; it tapered in, leading what looked like a clear, blown glass comb.  The Iron Bull flicked the dial and the comb buzzed and lit up with glowing, purple light.

“Electricity.” He held out his arm and let it flicker across his skin, “At this intensity, it’s just a little tingle…” He brought it down and ran it from her armpit to her elbow--she shivered, it felt a little like touching the mark, “but it can also feel like a shock...or even a slice.”

He brought the device close to her face and she shied away from it as much as she could, but he altered course and instead brushed it through her hair. The tingle started at her scalp and continued through her whole body.  

“Feel good?”

“Yeah…” she said, relaxing into the sensation.  After a few more strokes, he took it out of her hair, traced it down her neck and then skimmed the side along the peak of her nipple, drawing a contented sigh from her lips.  He repeated on the other and continued to brush it across her body, luring her into a content, sedative state.  When her eyes closed and her breathing became steady, he hit the dial and she jolted from the shock.  He laughed as she squirmed in her restraints, anticipating the moves of the little glass rod.  It was powerful enough that it didn’t even need to touch her skin to give her a good shock.  He traveled up her body and held the device above her nipple.  Slowly, he lowered it.  There was a crackle and she saw a bolt of light reach out to sear her flesh.  She pulled against her restraints as he shocked her over and over.  The rod was glowing bright as ever, as beautiful as it was painful.

The Iron Bull dragged it down her body, blazing a trail of of electrical pinpricks across her skin, hitting sensitive areas like the crease under her breast and the inside of her thigh.  He remained there for a while, brushing up and down while she wriggled in her restraints.

“Too much?”

“No--” She gasped as the device brushed against her nether lips,

“Should I turn it up?”

“Mmph…”

The Iron Bull laughed, “Nah, I have a better plan.”

He went back to the drawer when he returned he slipped something cold and metallic under her bottom.  The telltale buzz of electricity sounded, but there was no purple glow and nothing in the Iron Bull’s hands.

He leaned over her and brought his hand to her face.  It was so close, but he didn’t touch.  His fingers traveled towards her mouth and she instinctively parted her lips.  He came closer and closer until.

“Ouch!” he shocked her lip.

“ _You’re_ electric now…” he said, brushing his fingers across her chest, “And the current is so powerful, I don’t even have to touch you…”

He trailed down her chest, making sure to pay attention to her breasts as he went, but it was obvious where he was headed.  Malika’s stomach clenched as he went lower, singeing her with hardly a touch.  When he reached his destination, he hovered above, making her breathe raggedly in anticipation.  His bare hand dipped down and landed a heavy shock on one of her exposed inner lips.  She cried out, but he continued.  Waves of his hand caused crackling, startling pain.  She tried to pull herself up, away, but her waist was secured with the belt and all she could do was struggle against it.  The Iron Bull’s low, slow laugh filled her ears and in spite of the intense pain it would cause, she wished he would touch her.  Lay his bare hand on her and let her feel the full force of electricity from his fingers.  It would be worth it.

As it was, the shocks were overwhelming.  She twitched, kicked and screamed and, as usual, he continued.  He wouldn’t let up, not until she had reached a peak and fell limp on the table.  If she could see through the pain all the way to that point, she would be rewarded.  Allowed to sit with him, feel his arms around her; huge hands massaging her body...and tonight...Maker, tonight there would be even more.  She steeled her will and bore the pain.  All the while, the Iron Bull looked her over with his evil smirk.  He increased the intensity and she bit hard on her lip to stop from crying out.

“Is that too much, little girl?”

Malika shut her eyes tight and shook her head,

“So you can take more?”

She whined, she didn’t think she could but she didn’t want to say no.  The Iron Bull laughed.

“Let’s find out.”

He raised the intensity one last time.  It felt like tiny knives were slicing at her flesh as he skimmed between her legs; down her inner thighs almost to her knees and back up again.  Her muscles clenched and she squeaked incoherently until it was almost too much.  A warm, red haze fogged her mind and she felt her breath become deeper.  The pain became like white noise to her.  Ever present, but easy to ignore as she slipped into this new, hypnotic state like a warm bath.

Malika hardly noticed as the buzzing stopped and the Iron Bull began to remove her bindings.  When he was done, he slipped his hands beneath her and carried her to a bed where he sat her between his legs.  It was a beautiful feeling.  Her task was complete and now was her reward.

“How do you feel?” asked the Iron Bull as he gently caressed her neck and shoulders.

“I feel…” she couldn’t think of a word so she just let out a satisfied huff.

“That good?” said Iron Bull with a laugh.  Malika leaned back into him and to her surprise he wrapped his arms around her.  They sat in silence, the warmth and heaviness of his arms nearly putting her to sleep.  The session had been agonizing, but the relief she felt after being pushed over the edge and now this?  It had been worth it, so very very worth it.

“Ready to go?”

Malika perked up, she had nearly forgotten... they were going out.  Him and her... the two of them... Out for drinks.  The calm daze she had been in was suddenly interrupted and her heart raced.  She took a deep breath in and let it out.

“Lead the way.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to let everyone know that I'm no longer going to be updating on Fridays. Having a weekly deadline has been a bit stressful on my family, so I'm just going to be updating whenever; but don't worry, this work will not be put on the back burner. I'll be getting chapters out as often as I can! Thanks for reading!!
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr!  
> Fanfic/Writing/Art: ladysummerisle.tumblr.com  
> Personal/Fandom/Shitposts: malikafuckingcadash.tumblr.com


	7. To Dragons!

Malika woke to the sound of loud knocking on her door.  Her eyes creeped open to see the yellow-painted walls of her Val Royeaux hotel room.  Glancing towards the window, the glare caught her eye and she recoiled.  Her head was pounding and her stomach lurched. _What is this?_ she thought... and then she remembered.   _A hangover.  This is what a hangover feels like_.

“Fasta vass!” said the voice behind the door, “Inquisitor?  Are you even in there!?  I swear if you got kidnapped by some--”

“I’m here!” said Malika, running to get the door.  Once it was open, she groaned and fell against it, holding her head,

“Are you alright?” said Dorian, “You look...pale.”

“I--I’m fine, just…”

“Long night?”

She looked up to see his eyebrow cocked, “All that _shopping_ you’ve been doing is taking its toll?”

“There are wine shops…” Malika was not in the mood to make up stories and in even less of a mood to tell Dorian who she had actually been with, but she let him in.  It was better than talking in the hallway, anyway.

“So the Inquisitor’s a closet boozehound, is she?  I suppose that makes sense; I’ve never seen you at the Herald’s rest.  You ought to invite me up sometime. I’ll find us some proper Tevinter wine, none of this backwashed vinegar they serve here.”

“Thanks for the offer, Dorian.” She say down and held her head in her hands, “But I’m not sure I’ll be drinking for a while”

“That bad?” Dorian walked to the sink and brought her back a cup of water that she took and stared at with wide eyes.  It was true, she never went to the tavern.  She hardly ever drank, but she couldn’t turn down the Iron Bull and once they arrived it was shot after shot after shot.

The first one went down like fire and almost came right back up.  She swallowed hard and coughed.

“I know, right?” said the Iron Bull, giving her a hearty pat on the back, “Put some chest on your chest.”  He took another drink.

“I wish I’d been there to see it…” he said after another cough.

“Do you want to?” said Malika, happy for an excuse not to drink again, “I have a video.”

“What?!  You do?”

“Yeah,” she took out her phone, “We were doing research for this draconologist... we wanted to catch it feeding, but it kind of just ended up attacking us.”

She started the video and handed her phone to the Iron Bull who grabbed it eagerly.  He held it close to his face and watched the entire thing, cheering in Qunlot and pounding the table with his fist during the good parts.  Malika blushed and sunk low into the booth, worried the other patrons of the tavern might wonder what the hubbub was about.  Luckily the tavern was loud enough that no one noticed.  When he finally finished, he shook his head and handed the phone back.

“That little gurgle before it spat fire?  And that roar.  What I wouldn’t give to roar like that!  Taarsidath-an  Halsaam!” he paused thoughtfully then said, “You know, Qunari hold dragons sacred.  Well, as much as we hold anything sacred--here, your turn.”

The Iron Bull refilled Malika’s tankard with a bottle the serving girl had left.  

“That thing you just said.  You said it when I first arrived today, too.  What does it mean?”

“Oh, Taarsidath-an Halsaam?  Closest translation would be, ‘I will bring myself sexual pleasure later while thinking about this with great respect.’”

“You said that while you watched it breathe fire on me?” said Malika, her blush deepening.

“I know, right!?” he let out a satisfied grunt and pushed her tankard towards her.

The first drink had already started to go to her head, but she steeled her will, closed her eyes tight and drank the second down, exploding in a fit of coughs right after.

“Yeah!” said the Iron Bull, shaking her by the shoulder, “The second cup’s easier.  Most of the nerves in your throat are dead after the first one!”

Malika giggled under her breath at the thought of what one might do with a throat full of dead nerves.  She was loosening up and next to her was the Iron Bull...so large and warm and close.  She so desperately wanted to touch him, to reach under the table and see if the dragon fight had turned him on as much as his battle cry lead on, but she didn’t.  Instead she sunk down onto the table and listened as the Iron Bull continued.

“Ataashi.” he said, “‘The Glorious Ones’ That’s our word for them.  Ataaaaaaashiiii”

“It’s a shame we had to kill the dragon…” said Malika, noticing herself slurring the end of her sentence.  She was such a lightweight, “An embarrassment to the ancestors.” her brother used to tease.

“Damn good fight.” he said reassuringly, “Dragons are the embodiment of raw power, but it’s all uncontrolled, savage…”--Malika took in a shaky breath as she saw him pour her another shot--“So they need to be destroyed.  Taming the wild.  Order out of chaos.  Have another drink.”

 _This is going to be embarrassing, she_  thought, but she did it; bringing the glass to her lips, letting the burning liquid down her throat and letting out another loud cough.

She heard the Iron Bull laugh as she felt the alcohol hit her even harder.

“Nice!  To dragons!” he said and drank down his own shot,

“To the Iron Bull!” slurred Malika, drooping onto his arm.  He laughed.

“And the ass-kicking--” he paused for a moment then finished, “To you.”

The rest of the night was a blur, but there were a few moments she could remember.  They talked for a long time about Qunari culture and Malika had asked him if the rumors that Qunari don’t marry were true.  He told her how having sex for Qunari is like going to a healer and she replied with some ridiculous statement about never making love with both body and soul.  Maker, she was such a sap when she was drunk.  After that, she could remember being carried.  She must have been too wasted to walk.  Her hood was up over her head and her face was buried in the Iron Bull’s shoulder.  She could smell him, all sweat, musk and booze.  With all self control inhibited, she had started to kiss up his neck... Not only kiss, but lick and bite.  Sitting on the edge of her hotel bed, she cringed as she thought about it... Her lips traveling up his taut flesh, licking and sucking up his neck until she reached the bottom of his earlobe and nipped at it.  That was when he made a noise; a soft, almost inaudible moan...it was also when they reached the car.

He sat her down, buckled her in then turned away, but she grabbed his hand.  It couldn’t have been that hard, but he did stop.  When he turned around, there was an unmistakable look of worry on his face.  In her stupor, all she could do was whine. He looked away, but then knelt next to her and put his hand up to her face, pulled himself close and gave her a kiss on the cheek so close to her lips that for a moment she thought he’d missed.  He hadn’t.  He stood up, closed her door and turned away.  Her bodyguard in the driver’s seat took off.

 _A goodbye kiss_ , she thought.  She felt for certain she had stepped over the line.  The Iron Bull had been right, inviting her out was a bad plan.  All it did was allow her to make a fool of herself and make him uncomfortable.  She felt like a stupid, silly little girl only now she had no master to punish her for it.  She wouldn’t at all be surprised if she never even heard from him again,

“Drink up, Inquisitor.” said Dorian, shaking her from her trance, “I’ll pack your things.”

Malika bolted up.  Dorian would most certainly not be packing her things!  There were things he did not need to see and, more importantly, no wine or any other shopping to speak of.  She sent him back out and told him she’d be down soon.  She would pack on her own and then they would be off.  For once she was relieved to be leaving Val Royeaux.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, kiddos! Get ready for some serious angst coming up in the next few chapters!!
> 
> Also, if you want updates on my writing, including vague posts about my issues and triumphs during the writing process, follow me on Tumblr!  
> ladysummerisle.tumblr.com
> 
> If you want to see my random thoughts, notable reblogs and WAAAAAYY too many screenshots (often Dragon Age, but currently Fallout 4) follow my personal Tumblr!  
> malikafuckingcadash.tumblr.com


	8. A Bad Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the hardest chapter to write; in fact, I nearly scrapped it, but I'm convinced it's essential to further the plot. I was actually really excited to write it when I first planned it...funny how things change like that...
> 
> I tagged this as "Mildly Dubious Consent" because this chapter contains drunken sex. I do not condone drunken sex, since a drunk person can not legally consent to sex (even if both parties are drunk).

Malika stared into her half-downed tankard of ale.   _What am I even doing here?_ She thought.  Tucked away in the corner of the Herald’s Rest, she had left her chambers with the idea of seeking company, but neither of her brainy mage friends could be found.  It was a shame.  It was so easy to get lost in Solas’ tales of the fade or one of Dorian’s enthusiastic tirades and forget all of her troubles.  Instead, she found herself alone in perhaps the only uninhabited part of the tavern, _drinking_.  It was a cozy enough spot made even more comfortable as the warm haze of liquor took over.  Tucked behind the stairs, it was near enough to the bard to hear her clearly and right beside the toasty fire, but there was something so devastatingly _empty_ about it... maybe it was just in her mind.

Having just returned from Adamant Fortress, the brutal assault weighed heavily on her mind.  Haven was a tragedy; they had been victims of the attack, fighting for their lives against the forces of evil... but Adamant?   _She_ lead those men out of safety and into danger, some even to their deaths.  And the Champion of Kirkwall was another casualty.. _._ She wanted a distraction and even more than that she _needed_ companionship.  Intimacy.  The touch of another.  She wanted to see the Iron Bull, but thoughts of their last meeting haunted her.  The nightmare demon made sure of that.  It raped her mind, searching for painful thoughts and memories, but it didn’t need to delve deep to find them.

“If you defeat me,” it said, “with whom will you celebrate your victory?  Will it be alone in your chambers with your _toys_ or with the Qunari you pay to abuse you?”

The deeper they traveled into the fade, the worse the taunting became.

“Do you think he could ever actually _want_ you?  You are a tool and he will discard you once you’ve worn out your usefulness.”

She wasn’t sure if what she heard was said out loud; as far as she could tell, no one else noticed it.  Even if they could hear, they were surely being confronted with their own fears and doubts, too busy to care about hers.

She held her hand to her cheek, rubbing in the spot where he kissed so close to her mouth.  It felt like he wanted her when it happened, and ever since, she had felt the urge to write to him.  To lay her desires bare and ask him to forget their arrangement; beg him to touch her, kiss her and fuck her, but to what end?  Even if he were to agree, it would still be make believe.  The demon had been right.  His heart and body belonged to the Qun and she was merely a tool for his service.  Surely, she deserved something better, something _more._ A lover capable of actual love.

“My Lady?”

Malika’s head jerked up.  Blackwall.  Of course it was Blackwall.  She took a long drink, completely draining her cup, as he came towards her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen _you_ in here before.” he said, hands nervously playing with the hem of his padded shirt.

“Warden Blackwall.” She nodded her head and tipped her tankard in his direction.

“What’s the occasion?”

“I was lonely.” she said truthfully, but immediately regretted how pathetic it sounded, “I mean--I guess I just wanted some company…”  Blackwall chuckled.

“Not going to get much of that hiding back here.”  He looked to the floor and Malika saw the slightest flush peek out from behind his beard, “Might... _I_ join you?”

It was a dangerous offer.  She lifted her tankard to her lips only to remember she had already drank it dry.  She was sober enough yet to know this was a bad plan.  More drinking would lead to more bad decisions and another embarrassed, hungover morning... but wasn’t this exactly what she had asked for?  Blackwall was a good man--a nice man--and he did seem to care for her.  He didn’t make her heart pound, nor had he ever come to mind during her private hours in her chambers-- _nice_ men rarely did--but with enough drink... _No,_ she thought, _this is a bad plan. Tell him no, tell him sorry...go to bed. Sleep it off._

“Sure.” is what she actually said, then signaled the barmaid for another drink.

 

Three drinks down and Malika was flying.  It was nowhere near the blackout drunk she had been the last time, but still her consciousness fluctuated, one moment focusing on conversation, the next drifting off into fevered daydreams that left her flushed and aching.  It didn’t help that with every passing minute her and Blackwall grew closer.  He grew brave as he drank and now he was so close that she could feel the heat of his body and the weight of his hand on her shoulder.  Her head lulled to the side to rest on it.

“Inquisitor…” he said, so softly it was almost a breath.

“I should...it’s late…” she mumbled and stood up only to find herself staggering to stay upright.  Blackwall jumped up to catch her before she toppled over.

“Maybe I should walk with you.”

She had no doubts his intentions were pure, but she knew herself.  When she was in this state, a step out the door might as well be a step into the bedchamber.  She leaned on him, letting her back rest against his bulk.  He _was_ large... not nearly the same size as the Iron Bull, but he still towered over her by almost two feet and the solidness of his body coupled with the throbbing between her legs was enough to convince her to give it a chance.

They left together, neither walking very steadily until they reached her chambers.  At the top of the stairs, Malika turned back and saw him standing before her two steps down, looking at her with those familiar, pleading eyes.  She placed a hand on his chest and was greeted by the feeling of stiff muscle beneath his padded shirt.  Her hands traveled up to his collar and began toying with his buttons.  He wasn’t what she wanted, but it had been so long that even feeling the heat from his body made her feel like a broken templar, desperate for her next fix.

“I...I should go, my Lady…” he said, cheeks red from drink and arousal.  Malika pulled gently on his collar until their faces were inches apart.

“Probably.” she said, then he brought his lips to meet hers.

It was a rushed mess of lips, teeth, tongue and beard.  Details blurred in Malika’s memory, but she could recall moving to the bed and hearing Blackwall object.  Saying they shouldn’t do this, how it wasn’t right... she remembered herself agreeing, but neither of them stopped.  Then he was on top of her, holding himself up on his elbows while he rutted against her.  She reached down to feel him.  He was thicker than she was expecting and it seemed the liquor had little effect on his hardness.  She lined him up with her entrance and moaned as he pushed in.  She closed her eyes and felt his body moving above her, all muscle and hair.  Finding a bare patch to clutch onto towards his back, she couldn’t help but fantasize about the Iron Bull.  Imagining him holding her down while he stretched her with his massive rod.  The thought caused her to squirm and buck into Blackwall’s hips.  He responded by increasing his pace and deepening his stroke.  He found a good spot and hit it over and over again.  Malika cursed and whined.  In her head, the Iron Bull continued to fuck her, hard and mercilessly, his mouth widening into his perfect, evil grin.  That was enough to bring her to peak.  She panted and squeaked as she came, hands clutching onto the thick mat of hair that wasn’t supposed to be there.  As she came down from her high, she opened her eyes and realized she had made a terrible mistake.  Panic set in and suddenly she was crawling backwards towards the head of the bed.

“My Lady…?” said Blackwall with surprise and concern on his face.  

“I’m sorry--” she said, folding her knees up to her chest, “I can’t--I’m sorry--I shouldn’t have--we shouldn’t have done this. I need to stop.”

She rested her head on her chest, looking down at her legs.  Nothing was said for a long moment.

“I...understand, My Lady…” He pushed himself back and sat on the edge of the bed, breathing deeply in an attempt to compose himself.

“Don’t call me that.” she snapped and was taken aback by her own harshness, “I’m sorry, I mean...you could just...call me my name?”

“Maybe just, ‘Inquisitor’’s best for now,” Blackwall said as he stood up.  He dressed in silence, then walked towards where she sat curled up on the bed,

“Are you going to be alright?” he asked sincerely.  He was so _nice_ , so unbearably nice, “Do you need anything?”

“You are very kind, Warden Blackwall…” she said softly, “But I think I’ll be fine.”

When he left, Malika turned on her side and held her face in her hands.  This was just what she needed.  More tension in the ranks.  She would have to think twice before bringing Blackwall anywhere now.  Things would be uncomfortable at best... at worst, she supposed, he might leave.  Across the room, she heard her phone chime. Unwilling to let her indiscretion impair her performance as a leader, she swiftly went to check it.

She opened her email and nearly dropped her phone,

_from: theironbull@thebullspen.com_

_to: mabari@inquisition.org_

_We need to talk.  How soon can you and Red get to Val Royeaux?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, friends! Next chapter's coming up, but it's completely out of my comfort zone (writing-wise) so hopefully it won't take too long!
> 
> If you want up to the minute updates on my fics or just want to chat about fandoms, writing and sex, follow my tumblrs!  
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	9. The Demands of the Qun, part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally intended to be one chapter, but there's so much going on in it that I had to break it into two. I'm satisfied with my decision, I just hope it doesn't slow down the story's momentum too much. I promise we'll get back to the steamy bits after the next chapter xD

Malika groaned and clutched her face.  What could the Iron Bull want?  And why now?  Why so immediately that he was moved to message her in the middle of the night?  Perhaps he wanted to officially end things with her and the Inquisition, but surely he wouldn’t need to see her in person for that?  No.   _There must be something else._

She picked up her phone and read the message twenty times over, trying find any indication of his motives, but it was so damnably short.  Finally, she breathed deeply and replied.

“It’s late,” she wrote, “but I’ll talk to Leliana first thing.  What is this about?  Can’t we do a conference call?”

“I’d rather talk about this in person,” he replied almost immediately, “Once you’re here I think you’ll agree.  Let me know when you can make it, the sooner the better.”

 

When morning came, Malika hadn’t slept at all.  For an hour she stared at her phone and contemplated writing the Iron Bull back, but what would she say?   _Sorry I got wasted and made inappropriate oral contact with you?_ No.  In the end, she decided against it and instead began to pack her things.  She probably packed more than she needed, but it was her hope to be away from Skyhold for as long as possible.  As the early morning sun began to light the mountains outside her window with dim purples and blues, she left her chambers.  She walked across the great hall then up the stairs in the rotunda to wait.

She was mostly alone in the rookery for a few hours and had finally started to doze off in her seat when a hand on her shoulder shook her awake.

“Inquisitor,” said Leliana, sounding much more energetic than she had any right to be, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Malika forced herself out of her stupor and hastily patted down her pockets for her phone, “I got a message,” she said, pulling it up and handing the phone to Leliana.  She looked around to make sure nobody could hear, “From the Iron Bull.”

“I see,” said Leliana.  She looked over the conversation with a quizzical expression, but said nothing.

“Well, what do you think?  What does he want?  Can we--should we go?”

“Tersely worded, sent well after midnight.” she said thoughtfully as she handed back the phone, “He’s probably just jealous about your tryst with Warden Blackwall.”

Malika’s jaw dropped.  She was at a loss for words, but as usual, Leliana delighted in her discomfort.

“Don’t give me that look, Inquisitor.  You know very well that nothing in this castle goes on without my knowledge.”

“Do you have cameras in my bedroom?!”

“Of course not, but my agents are everywhere--openly, here in Skyhold.  One saw you drinking in the tavern.  It was out of the ordinary, so a note was made.  Another saw you stumbling into your chambers with Blackwall and didn’t see him leave for quite a while.  When he did, she noted he was disheveled, red in the face and trying far too hard to look casual.  The rest fills in itself.  It’s nothing to be ashamed of.  Did you have a good time?”

“No.”

“Oh?” Leliana seemed honestly surprised, “So the rumors of grey warden stamina are false then?”

“What? No, that wasn’t--This isn’t why I came up here.” she shook her head and tried to focus, but couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Do you really think he’d be jealous?”

“Inquisitor…” said Leliana, looking at her as if she were a naive child, “Of course not.  He is a professional...and a spy.  Perhaps he will find out and perhaps he will make you _believe_ he is jealous, but trust me when I say it will be false.”

Malika looked to the floor.  Regardless of how much she already believed it, those were not the words she wanted to hear.

“Guard your heart, Inquisitor.  As your advisor, I cannot recommend you becoming romantically involved with anyone before we defeat Corypheus, but if you must, another try with the warden would be a more sensible choice.  As far as this message goes, it would make sense that it has something to do with the Qunari.  The Ben-Hassrath reports have been a great asset to us, so I would not be opposed to finding out what our associate wants.”

With that, Leliana set to arranging transportation, and Malika prepared her luggage.  Part of her hadn’t believed that convincing Leliana to tag along would be so easy.  She had half expected she would be going alone or not at all.  Now that everything was underway, she began to feel the tension rising.  She still hadn’t talked to the Iron Bull about their last session, or more specifically what happened after it, and with Leliana there it seemed she may never have the chance.  Perhaps it was for the best.  She didn’t know how much longer she could stand being the Iron Bull’s client and not his lover; if it wasn’t to be, leaving the meeting as simply allies seemed a good way to finish things.

 

Around midday, they arrived in Val Royeaux.  In the interest of time and having to explain themselves too much, the normal entourage was left behind in favor of one car and one driver.  Arriving at the Bull’s Pen, Malika felt just as nervous as she did the first time she laid eyes on the door with the white painted horns.  Just like the first time, she had no idea what was in store for her.  

They pulled around the back, parked and approached the door.  Malika rang and was soon greeted by a smiling Krem.  

“Welcome back, Your Worship,” he said once the door was closed behind them, “It’s good to see you.”

“We’re alone?” asked Malika.  Her face scrunched up as she realized how rude her reply was.  “Sorry,” she said, “It’s good to see you, too, Krem.  Truly.”

He laughed, “Don’t worry about it.  Your privacy is important,” they began to walk down the hall, “We are alone, entirely.  Bull cancelled all appointments and even sent the staff home--the ones who don’t live here, anyway.”

“People live here?”

“A few of us.  The ones he trusts the most.  Mostly members of his old mercenary team.  I’m the newest, actually.”

Krem opened the door to the waiting area where the Iron Bull was sitting in an overstuffed, leather armchair.  He stood as they entered and Malika’s heart raced.  She had again forgotten what it was like to be in his presence.  She wanted to run to him, take off her clothes and bow before him, but of course, she didn’t.

“Inquisitor,” he said, holding out his hand.  She put out her own and he shook it.   _This really is strictly business,_ she thought sadly.  “Glad you could make it.  You, too, Red.”

The Iron Bull gestured towards the chairs and the four of them sat down.

“We don’t have a lot of time, so let’s get down to business.  I got a message from my contacts in the Ben-Hassrath.”

“What did it say?” said Malika, sitting forward in her chair.

“The Ben-Hassrath have been reading the reports.  They don’t like Corypheus or his Venatori, and they _really_ don’t like red lyrium.  They’re ready to work with us.  With you,” he said, nodding towards Malika, “The Qunari and the Inquisition, joining forces.”

Malika sat silent for a minute.  As much as she trusted the Iron Bull, she knew what happened in Kirkwall.  Years of peaceful cohabitation ending in a full-blown siege lead by the Arishok himself...only this time, there would be no Garrett Hawke to take the enemy leader down in hand-to-hand combat.

“That would be an unprecedented offer,” she said, “If I believed it was legitimate... which I don’t.”  She pushed herself back in her chair and crossed her arms.  Oddly enough, the Iron Bull didn’t seem particularly offended.

“Now ordinarily, that would be the way to go.  But they’ve identified themselves, they’re not running a game on you.”

“Alright,” said Malika, still unconvinced, “What do they want?”

“They’ve found a massive red lyrium shipping operation out on the coast.”

“They want us to hit it together,” added Krem excitedly, “Talked about bringing in one of their dreadnoughts.  Always wanted to see one of those big warships in action.”

“Together?” asked Malika.

“Yeah.  We’ll meet up with the Qunari contact; you, me, a small team of your choosing and a few of my boys.”

“A few of...your boys?”  Malika looked around like she was expecting to see some Qunari soldiers appear out thin air.

“Krem told you how a lot of us here used to be mercenaries, well we’ve never actually...stopped.  Sure, the jobs we take have become more covert, but that actually makes the team stronger for this particular mission.  My men are trained, loyal and itching for some real action.  Krem will be acting as my second in command.”

Krem leaned back in his chair with a grin, clearly excited about the change of pace.  His enthusiasm made Malika feel slightly more at ease.

“What would this alliance really get us?” she asked.

“They wouldn’t use the word ‘alliance’ if they didn’t mean it.  Naval power, more Ben-Hassrath reports, Qunari soldiers pointed at the Venatori... It  _could_ do a lot of good…” with the last statement, Malika detected something a little off about the Iron Bull, but before she could question it, he continued, “I don’t want to pressure you, but we need your decision now.  The ship’s scheduled to leave for Minrathous tomorrow night.  If we want to catch it, we need to leave today.”

Malika looked to Leliana, who nodded her head.

“Alright, we’re in.”

The next hour was a whirlwind of phone calls and arrangements.  Including a conference call to the war council who were none too pleased to be informed of the plan so late and were confused as to why the Inquisitor had a mysterious Qunari contact they had never heard of before.  Both Leliana and Malika agreed that now was not the time to tell them how they met.  At the end of the call, Leliana left for the Inquisition’s Val Royeaux headquarters and Malika was left alone in the dungeon for the first time in... ever.  Having left them alone for the call, Krem and the Iron Bull were nowhere to be found, so Malika decided to have a look around.

She opened the door to the entry hall and quietly stepped out.  The hallway was in its normal state of dimness, only lit by a few sconces that flickered to imitate candle light.  All the doors were closed except for one at the end of the hallway that was cracked open, allowing a sliver of light to reflect off of the shining, black floors.  She made her way towards it and heard varied sounds coming from the room; clanking and rustling.  Reaching the door, she peeked through the crack to see the Iron Bull busy stuffing a large chest with weapons and armor.  He hadn’t seen her yet, people rarely did unless she willed it, so she stood watching him for a time.  He seemed deep in thought and almost troubled; it was the same look he had before when he spoke of the upcoming alliance.  Maker knows, she was nervous about talking to him alone for the first time since...the last time...but something about the way he looked told her she should.  If he was having second thoughts, it was something she needed to know.  She knocked.

“Yeah?” he said, not taking his eyes away from the task at hand.  Malika opened the door and stood before him.  “Oh, Inquisitor,” he said when he looked up, his face now unreadable as usual, “You and Red ready to go?”

“Leliana just left.  She’s not coming with us, but she’s sending over some cars.”

“Good...Good…” he said, then remained silent while he continued to pack his case.

“Are you excited about seeing some of your countrymen?” she asked, at a loss for another way to begin the conversation.

“Yeah…” he said, sounding completely unsure, but smiling nonetheless, “Yeah, it should be good.”

“You don’t seem entirely happy about it,” she said plainly, “If something seems off about this plan to you, I need to know.”

“No, I’m good.”  he said, finally looking at her directly, “It’s, uh... I’m used to them being... over there.  It’s been a while.”

“I thought the Qunari wanted to extend their reach to the whole world.”

“Yeah,” he said, looking back down into the chest, “Just didn’t think I’d see it...Look, the Qun answers a lot of questions.  It’s a good life for a lot of people, but it’s a big change, and a lot of folks here wouldn’t do well under that kind of life.  I guess it’s not like we’re converting.  This is just us joining forces against Corypheus.  On that front, I think we’re good.”  The Iron Bull closed the lid of the trunk, then walked around to sit on it, “Anyway, I actually wanted to talk to you.  Alone.”

Malika’s shoulders tensed, “Oh?”

“Yeah.  I heard about Adamant... and the Champion of Kirkwall.  That couldn’t have been easy.”

Malika closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.  As much as she had been dreading talking to the Iron Bull about their last meeting, she wanted to talk about this topic even less.  It was one she had been actively avoiding even in her own mind...she had tried fighting, drinking and fucking it away, all to no avail, and now the Iron Bull wanted to _talk_ about it.  Knowing him, there would be no use trying to dissemble, so she closed the door.  

“We lost a lot of people, and me--my friends--we would all be dead if it weren’t for Hawke.”

“You’re fighting a big war, Inquisitor, nobody expects you to be able to save them all.”

“Yeah,” her voice wavered with tears she was trying to hold back, “But how many are worth it?  First the conclave, then Haven and now this?  How many of my people--my friends--have to die for me?!  I can’t--”  she breathed deeply and closed her eyes tight, fighting for composure, “I’m not going to let it happen again.”

“Well,” said the Iron Bull after a long pause, “You can count on me and my boys.  No one’s going to be dying on this trip.  We’re prepared.  Even for demons,” he added a tad uneasily, “I hear those things like to show up when you’re around.”

Malika wiped her eyes and huffed out a laugh, “If you’re worried about demons,” she said dryly, “I can protect you.”

“My blade pretty much protects me.” he said, landing two heavy hits on the chest underneath him.

“Perhaps _I_ can do things your blade can’t.” she said, then promptly bit her lip.  She would have been satisfied if the ground were to open up and swallow her whole at that very moment, but luckily it didn’t have to.  There was a loud knock on the door and Krem cracked it open,

“Cars are here, let’s move out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have gotten so much love since I posted my last chapter, and I just wanted to say thank you to all of you amazing readers! All the comments and kudos and love have been seriously amazing!
> 
> If you're not following me on my art tumblr, then you missed out on a few things. For one, I released a  
> [Tumblr exclusive bonus chapter](http://ladysummerisle.tumblr.com/post/136032082289/the-bulls-pen-ch-7-12-tumblr-exclusive)! I didn't want to post it on AO3 since it was mostly intended as a character study of Iron Bull and is a teeny bit spoilery, but it's up if you don't care and want to read it anyway. I also made a very short [playlist](http://ladysummerisle.tumblr.com/post/136516966164/having-some-block-problems-so-i-thought-id-post) of some songs that I have come to relate to "The Bull's Pen"  
> Anyway, if you're interested come check out my [art](http://ladysummerisle.tumblr.com) or [personal/fandom](http://malikafuckingcadash.tumblr.com/) blogs.  
> Thanks!!


	10. The Demands of the Qun, part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers!  
> I just wanted to say thank you all so much! You have continued to show your love and support and I am truly overwhelmed. I treasure all of you and hope to get to know even more of you as time goes by. Anyway, enjoy the chapter and check out the end note for a link to another Tumblr exclusive thingy.  
> Thanks!

Malika, Krem and the Iron Bull headed out to the back parking lot where two vans waited for them.  They loaded up and were on the road in short order.  Malika had watched the Iron Bull’s crew as they packed the second car, and she regretted she didn’t have time to meet any of them before they left.

The drive to their first destination was quite informative.  Malika was able to ask a number of questions about the Qun that she hadn’t before.  To say the Iron Bull seemed conflicted about his own people was an understatement.  He seemed to believe that there was something inside him--inside every Qunari--that would turn savage and wild if it wasn’t kept strictly in check.  He openly told her about turning himself in to a group called the “re-educators,” who would use torture and brainwashing techniques to force conformity to the Qun.  The mere thought of it shook her to the core.  There had been a time in her life before she was a spy and before she became the Herald of Andraste where she, too, had questioned the life planned out for her.  She was called “willful,” as if desiring her own freedom was a bad thing.  If there were such things as “re-educators” available to her parents, she felt certain she would have ended up in their clutches, and when they were through, who would she have become?  Some meek concubine of a noble house, happy to have her daughters abandoned in the deep roads?  And what had they taken from the Iron Bull?  He could be rough during a session, but all other interactions she had with him or Krem painted another picture.  He was gentle, selfless and caring...he was the only person who had even bothered asked her how she was after Adamant.  She had to imagine that if he had trouble living by the Qun, it wasn’t because he was too savage.

The sun had set when they arrived at their first stop--a chateau belonging to a friend of Josephine’s who had graciously agreed to let them stay the night.  It was a beautiful, grand estate done in the Orlesian style, with rich tapestries and gold accents.  The team from Skyhold had not arrived yet, so after Malika made herself at home in her bedroom, she decided to take a look around.  She strolled down the halls until she heard music and laughter coming from the central courtyard.  Opening the doors, she was met by a beautiful sight.  The courtyard was not particularly large, but it was lush and green, glowing from strings of tiny, golden lights that ran from the edge of the roof to a large, centralized tree that looked older than the house itself.  At the base of the tree, the Iron Bull and his men were seated on benches, enjoying a cask of wine.

When the Iron Bull saw her, he raised his tankard, “Inquisitor!” he said, “Glad we’re not drinking alone.”

“Ahhh…” she sighed uneasily, “I think I’ll have to pass on the drinking...but I’d be happy to join you.”

There were some playful jeers from the group, but the Iron Bull quieted them down, “Come on, don’t be a bunch of assholes.  She doesn’t have to drink if she doesn’t want to.”  He got a smug look on his face and turned to Krem, “So, how you doin’, Krem de la Creme.”

“Your Worship,” said Krem, clearly unamused, “I’m so glad he has someone new to hit with that joke.”

“I can think of worse places to go with Cremisius…” 

“So can he!  Believe me, he loves his nicknames.”

“Hey, when I was growing up, my name was just a series of numbers,” said the Iron Bull, “We all gave each other nicknames under the Qun.”

“Do they ever wear shirts under the Qun, or do they just run around binding their breasts like that?” Krem gestured at the thick straps of leather over the Iron Bull’s bare chest,

“It’s called a harness, Krem.”

“Yes, for your pillowy man-bosoms.  Let me know if you need help binding.  You could really chisel something out of that overstuffed look.”

Malika sat for a moment and tried to understand what Krem just said; _why would he know anything about breast binding_...? and then it hit her.  A slight smile came to her lips...she had been imagining having sex with Krem all wrong.

“Anyway,” said the Iron Bull, “Here’s the rest of my team.  We’ve got Rocky, Skinner, Stitches, Dalish and Grim.  Crazy bunch of assholes, but they’re mine.”

“So all of you...work at the Pen?” asked Malika.

“It’s a living.” said Rocky, a muscular dwarf with a handlebar mustache.

Skinner, a dark-haired elf with an Orlesian accent, nodded her head, “The best job I’ve ever had.”

“Skinner doesn’t always get along very well with humans, so she had trouble...keeping a job.”

“Now I get paid to beat shems.” she said with an off-putting grin.

“She’s actually our most popular Dominant, even more popular than me.” The Iron Bull gave her a proud smile.

“So, Rocky,” said Malika, “I have to ask, were you born on the surface or are you from Orzammar?”

“Orzammar,” said Rocky, “Got exiled.  Stupid noble crap.  Also, I accidentally blew up a bit of the shaperate.”

Malika nodded in approval, “Good for you.”

“Rocky’s a switch,” said the Iron Bull, “so he does just about everything around the Pen.”

“Why leave your clan, Dalish?” asked Malika.  Dalish was a blonde elf with a vivid green vallaslin Malika had been admiring.  It was nice to see someone else with facial markings.

“Our keeper thought I should see the world a little.” 

“Dalish don’t have templars,” said the Iron Bull, “so they can’t have too many mages in a clan at once.”

“Now, Ser,” said Dalish in mock offendedness, “You know I’m not a mage, that would make me an apostate!”

Krem gave her a sideways glance, “Then explain why your clients are always asking about your electricity trick.”

“I’m not the only one who uses electricity!”

“The levitation trick?” said Krem.

“The freezing trick…” said Stitiches, a dark-skinned human who was sitting close enough to Dalish to make Malika wonder if they were a couple.

“So, Stitches, I take it you’re some kind of healer?”

“Fighter, healer and professional submissive.” he said with a nod,

“He makes a salve,” said the Iron Bull, “that will heal any bruise, welt or cut in 24 hours or less.”

“I hear it feels good on the bits after you ride the Bull.” he said to Malika with a wink.  Her eyes widened and she involuntarily recoiled, the Iron Bull choked on his beer and the rest of the team erupted in laughter.

“Grim!” said Malika, desperate to change the subject, “What’s your story?”

Grim grunted in reply.

“He doesn’t talk much.” said the Iron Bull, “I’m pretty sure he’s the lost king of some small country...Grim lacks the verbal skills to have any clients of his own, but he helps out here and there.”

Grim grunted in agreement.

Malika laughed, “I like your team, Iron Bull.”

“We do alright,” he said, then Rocky started the group singing some old drinking song they all knew.  It was strange to be in the company of a team of mercenaries turned dungeon workers, but it was also oddly comforting.  They were fighters and outcasts, drawn to life’s rougher pleasures.  For the first time in perhaps ever, she felt like she was amongst people like herself.

When their song concluded, the fiddle player picked up with a lively tune.  Stitches stood up and reached out to Dalish, who took his hand and joined him for a dance.  Malika sat contentedly and watched them until Rocky approached her.

“Care to dance, Inquisitor?”

“Oh!”  It had been so long since she had been in a position to be asked to dance that she froze, trying to figure out how to respond, but then Rocky held out his hand and she took it, “Ok.”

They stepped out onto the grass and Malika was amazed by how easily her body moved to the rhythm.  It was like no time had passed at all since her last party in the Free Marches.  As much as she despised her family, they did throw a good party.  She would dance for hours, and if the mood took her, she would sneak off for some fun with whomever caught her fancy... but dwarven boys were never her first choice... She glanced around, and over her shoulder, she saw the Iron Bull carrying on a conversation with Krem, occasionally glancing her way.  She didn’t dare ask him to dance; if he said no, it would break her heart, and if he said yes... well, she wouldn’t know what to think.  Even if he were to say yes, the thought of them awkwardly trying to figure out how to make it work with the height difference made her cringe... but there _was_ Krem.  He wasn’t _too_ tall and he had _definitely_ caught her fancy.

When the song ended, she excused herself from Rocky and made her move.  Their conversation halted as she approached.

“Do you dance?”

He looked surprised at first, but then he turned and gave the Iron Bull an odd sideways smirk before focusing his attention back on her, “Sure.”

Malika’s heart fluttered and she could feel a blush rise in her cheeks as he stood up and put his arm around her shoulders, leading her out to the center of the lawn.  They clasped hands, and he wrapped one arm around her back to pull her in close.  Perhaps he wasn’t the dark, dominant Qunari of her deepest fantasies, but _Maker,_ was he handsome.  If she were to end up in bed with him after a few too many drinks, she’d never tell _him_ to leave.  To top it off, he turned out to be an excellent dancer.  As the music picked up, they glided across the courtyard.  He separated from her slightly and lifted his arm to spin her, but as she followed through, her back slammed up against something huge and solid.  She turned back to see what it was and was met with a wall of grey flesh; her jaw dropped as she looked up and locked eyes with the Iron Bull.

“My turn,” he said with that beautiful, evil grin of his.  

She was petrified.  Krem backed away to give them room, but Malika couldn’t move her legs.  The Iron Bull stepped around her and his massive hands slipped beneath her arms.  He lifted her with ease, as if she weighed nothing, and held her close to his chest.  Overwhelmed and feeling like a child’s toy against the Iron Bull’s incredible bulk, she did the only thing she could--she laughed.  She couldn’t help it, it was the only way to deal with all of her conflicting emotions--confusion, arousal, fear, joy.  To her relief, the Iron Bull’s face softened and he laughed, too.  As soon as the initial shock wore off, Malika found that dancing with the Iron Bull wasn’t awkward at all; although, she wasn’t really doing much dancing herself.  He rocked and spun with her in his arms, causing her stomach to do excited cartwheels.  She had forgotten what it was like to be close to him--to have his full attention her.  Although she could hear some laughing and cheering from the Iron Bull’s men, it was like they were miles away.  He was all she could see and all she wanted to see.  She gasped as he bent low into a dip.  Feeling herself falling back, she threw her hands around his neck, accidentally pressing her mark into the tender flesh beneath his jaw.  He trembled and let out a shaky moan as he felt it tingle on his skin.  Malika pulled her hand away, inadvertently tracing over the stubble of his chin as she did so.  Their eyes met.  For the longest moment, they stayed just like that.  His face was so close to hers that she could feel his hot breath on her mouth, and for a split second she thought he was moving in closer.  But before she could be sure, his head turned towards the door and her eyes followed.  What she saw made her insides drop like a lead weight.

“Warden Blackwall,” she said, her body suddenly tense and eyes wide with surprise.

“Inquisitor--” he replied breathlessly; this was clearly not a sight he had been expecting to see.

“The Iron Bull?”  said Dorian.  Malika jerked her head in his direction and saw him looking on with an expression of utter confusion.

“In the flesh.” said the Iron Bull.  He set Malika on the ground and she stumbled forward towards her team.  Blackwall, Dorian and Sera...she could have sworn she had specified--

“Lady Cassandra had urgent business with the Seekers,” said Blackwall, as if reading her mind, “I...I offered to come in her stead.”

“Oh.”

There was a long pause as she tried to think of something, _anything_ , to say.  She was relieved to see he hadn’t left the Inquisition, but it would be lying to say she was happy to see him _now._ He looked at her with those same pleading eyes as he had the first time they kissed, and a wave of regret ran over her that almost made her sick.  She opened her mouth, hoping that something appropriate might fall out of it, but luckily, the silence was interrupted by somebody else.

“So, are we going to get food,” said Sera, “Or are you lot just going to stand around gaping at each other like a bunch of idiots?”

 _Maker bless you, Sera,_ thought Malika.  She always knew just what to say.

It turned out that nobody had eaten, so the entire group--Malika and the Iron Bull’s people alike--headed for the dining quarters, where the servants had been awaiting their arrival.  It was a grand hall with one long table.  Malika sat herself purposefully in the middle, as to limit the amount of small talk between the two groups.  Luckily, the Iron Bull’s men seemed aware that she hadn’t been completely upfront with her companions as to the nature of this alliance.  During dinner, she debriefed her team on the tentative plan.  She told them the truth about the Iron Bull’s Ben-Hassrath connections, but said he was simply the leader of a mercenary company who Leliana had put her in contact with.  Things were stiff between her and Blackwall, but Malika was more interested in watching Dorian’s reactions.   He didn’t buy any of her story, but at least he was being quiet about it.

At the end of the meal, people slowly left for their rooms.  Malika waited to be the last to leave, still wary of the two groups mingling without her supervision.  When Stitches and Dalish finally went to bed, she found herself alone with Dorian.

“‘Why are we always stopping in Val Royeaux?’ I ask,” Dorian play acted, “‘I like to shop!’ she says.  ‘Oh really?’ I say, ‘I know a wonderful bookshop you would just love, we should go together.’ ‘Oh, no…’ she says, ‘I’d just like to spend some time alone.’” Dorian shook his head and tutted, “Lies, Inquisitor.  All lies!”

“Maker’s balls, Dorian, what do you want me to say?” 

“I don’t know... that you’ve been slipping away to a certain establishment in the red lantern district every time we’ve headed even remotely near Val Royeaux?  That you’ve apparently had that _worshipful_ behind of yours whipped by a real Qunari spy? Now  _that_ is something not everyone can say, but I suppose we have that in common now…”

“So you--you go there, too?  I...I thought you were kind of...broke.”

Dorian huffed, “Well, I haven’t always been. There was a time when I was young and affluent, taking carefree holidays and spending all my family’s money on meaningless frivolities...of course, I am still young.”

“And you saw the Iron Bull?” Malika had a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.  She never thought about the Iron Bull’s other clients, but now that she was being confronted with one, she couldn’t help but feel a little...jealous.

“What a charming question, Inquisitor.  Perhaps you should ask the Iron Bull about that, see how far his confidentiality agreement actually goes.  As for me, I think I’ll turn in for the night, tomorrow is sure to be a fascinating experience.”

Malika watched Dorian leave, then collapsed against the table.   _I should go to bed, too,_ she thought.  It had been a long day and she was suddenly overcome with exhaustion.  She peeled herself off of her chair and trudged towards her room.  She couldn’t quite figure out _why_ she felt so tired, until she remembered that she hadn’t slept at all the previous night.  The night with Blackwall.   _Maker, was it really just yesterday?_ she thought, _no_ , _technically, it was this morning._ The events replayed in her mind, despite her best efforts to subdue them.  Flashes of memory--the taste of liquor on his tongue, the scratch of his beard on her face, the sweet release as he brought her to climax, followed immediately by embarrassment and regret.  She hadn’t even washed since it happened.  She was sure his scent lingered underneath her clothes.  She felt terrible.

She arrived at her room while in deep thought and reached to open the door.

“So,” said a deep, familiar voice, “When’d you fuck the Warden?”

It was the Iron Bull.  Of course it was, his room was right next to hers.  Standing in the dim light of the hallway, he would have been ominous enough without adding mind reading powers to the mix.  

Malika slumped against the wall, “Why?” she groaned, “Why do you know about that?  Why does everyone in the fucking world know about that?”

“Ben-Hassrath training,” said the Iron Bull matter-of-factly, “But I didn’t really need it.  You’re more formal with him than you are with anyone else I’ve seen, even people you’ve never met before, and when you turn your back on him he stares at you like he’s seen what’s under those clothes.  I’d say it was recent, that you called it off and he’s not too happy about it.”

“It was a mistake,” she said, feeling too tired to filter herself, “I was upset and I needed a distraction and he was...there.”

“That’s a really bad reason to fuck someone.”

“Oh really!?” snapped Malika, “I didn’t know!  Thanks for telling me!  And why do _you_ care, anyway?”

“Important mission tomorrow, you need to be at your best.”

 _Of course,_ she thought, _the mission._ “I’ll be fine.”  She turned towards her door, but stopped when she felt the Iron Bull’s hand against her cheek.  He drew her back gently and tilted her head up  towards him.

“Also just making sure I haven’t lost my best client.”

Malika was too tired and emotionally drained to put up a front against the Iron Bull.  She accepted his touch readily, letting her head drop to the side to nuzzle into his hand.

“Me?” she said sleepily, “Not Dorian?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t...”  She buried her face further into his hand, letting it muffle her words as she said, “No.”

“What was that?” said the Iron Bull.  He turned her face so she was looking at him again.

“No, you haven’t lost me.”

“Good to hear,”  He patted her cheek and pulled away, “You should get to sleep now.”

“I _really_ should,” she said, “Goodnight, Bull.”

“Night, Malika.”

 

When she woke in the morning, it was hard to believe that previous day and a half hadn’t been some trick of the fade.  She was definitely awake in the same strange bedroom that she had fallen asleep in, which meant that the previous night--the dancing, the revelations, and the chat with the Iron Bull--had all been real.  She brought her hand to her face, trying to recreate his touch.  He had asked her to come back...and she said yes.  She didn’t know how she should feel about that.  Leliana would have advised caution--reminded her that the Iron Bull’s every action was carefully plotted to achieve the ends he desired.  Given the mission at hand, keeping the Inquisitor happy and invested in his well being was a solid plan.  Still, she couldn’t help but feel--or maybe hope--that it was more than that.  

The team left for the Storm Coast at midday and arrived as the sun was beginning to sink over the horizon.  They parked on a tree-strewn hillside overlooking the docks.  In the distance was their target: a single merchant vessel, suspiciously being loaded at dusk.

“Our Qunari contact should be here to meet us,” said the Iron Bull as they stepped out of the car.

“He is,” an elf stepped out from a cluster of trees, “Good to see you again, Hissrad.”

“Gatt!  Last I heard you were still in Seheron!”

“They finally decided I’d calmed down enough to go back into the world.” said the elf.  He certainly wasn’t what Malika had expected, but at least the Iron Bull seemed happy to see him.

“Inquisitor, this is Gatt,” said the Iron Bull, “We worked together in Seheron.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Inquisitor.  Hissrad’s reports say you’re doing good work.”

“Iron Bull’s name is Hissrad?”

“Under the Qun, we use titles, not names.” said Gatt

“My title was ‘Hissrad,’” explained the Iron Bull, “Because I was assigned to secret work.  It could be translated to ‘keeper of illusions’ or--”

“Liar,” said Gatt shortly, “It means liar.”

“Well, you don’t have to say it like _that._ ”

Gatt explained the mission.  There were two towers on the dock, both being controlled by the Venatori.  They would split into two teams.  The first team, consisting of Malika, the Iron Bull, Gatt and the Inquisition agents, would head for the nearest tower that was the most heavily guarded, and the second team, the Iron Bull’s men lead by Krem, would take the far tower.  Once they were both in place, they would signal the dreadnought by radio, then hope that they could keep control of the mages on the docks long enough for the dreadnought to do its work and sail away.

“What do you think, Bull?”  Malika asked  when the plans were set.

“I don’t know, I never liked covering a dreadnought run.  Too many ways for crap to go wrong.  If our scouts underestimate enemy numbers, we’re dead.  If we can’t lock down the Venatori mages, the ship is dead.  It’s risky.”

“Riskier than letting red lyrium into Minrathous?” said Gatt.  He had a point, they had to try.

Reaching the tower without causing a scene was going to require stealth, so naturally, Malika lead the way.  At first, they only encountered a few lookouts that she was able to take out handily by herself, but it wasn’t long before they were overrun.  Dorian cast a silencing spell and they took on a group at the base of the tower.  As they fought, Malika couldn’t help but admire the Iron Bull.  In the heat of battle, he was truly a sight to behold.  His muscles glimmered in the lamplight with sweat as he swung his gigantic axe, disabling two or three enemies at once.  Unfortunately, she was not the only one who noticed him.  A Venatori rogue appeared behind him and Malika called out in warning, but nothing came out.   _Dorian’s spell!_  He couldn’t hear her.  The rogue’s daggers flashed, but he hadn’t struck yet.  He was waiting for just the right time to take him down in one blow.  Without second thought, Malika flipped the dagger in her hand and threw it.  It soared past the Iron Bull and nicked him on the forearm before finding its target in the neck of the enemy behind him.  The Iron Bull looked at his arm, then back to where the rogue was falling to the ground, clutching at the knife in his neck, then over to Malika, who stood ready with one less dagger than she had before.  His eye widened and he focused just above and to her left.  Without hesitation, she turned around and dug her remaining dagger into the gut of the last enemy.

The Iron Bull retrieved the dagger and wiped it off on the Venatori agent’s pants.  He held the handle out towards Malika.  It was smooth and tapered with a thick, round pommel.   _Of course,_ she thought as heat rose in her cheeks, _it had to be that one._

They climbed the tower and cleared it out easily.

“You in position, Krem?”  The Iron Bull said over the radio.

“We’ve been here for five minutes already.”

“I knew you gave them the easier job,” said Gatt.  The Iron Bull didn’t respond, just smirked.  “Alright, signaling the dreadnought.”

Gatt pressed a button on his radio and the dreadnought slowly emerged from the mist.  The merchant vessel had already left the dock, but there was no way they could leave the harbor in time to escape their fate.  In two shots of a massive cannon, the ship was down.  The mages on the ground drew their staffs, but Dorian and Sera immediately began to pelt them with ranged attacks.  They retreated towards the second tower.

“They’re heading this way,” said Krem over the radio, “And there’s more coming from the other side.  We can’t take them all!”

“They need to retreat.” said Malika, “They stand against that kind of force.”

“No, they can’t.” The Iron Bull looked grim.

“Your men need to hold that position, Hissrad.” said Gatt.

“They do that, they’re dead.”

“And if they don’t the Venatori retake it and the dreadnought is dead.”

The Iron Bull turned away from Gatt and shook his head.

“You’d be throwing away an alliance between the Inquisition and the Qunari!” said Gatt, “You’d be declaring yourself Tal-Vashoth!”

Bull and Gatt continued to argue, but Malika could scarcely hear them.  The only thing she could think of were the smiling faces from the courtyard the previous night.  New friends who made her feel so welcome, so _normal._ She thought of Stitches and Dalish holding hands at the dinner table; Rocky, who was the first person to ask her to dance since she left the Free Marches; and Krem, sweet, gorgeous, teasing Krem...No, she couldn’t bear it.  It wouldn’t be like Adamant, not again.

“Call the retreat!” she cried, grasping onto the Iron Bull’s arm.  He did.

They watched as his men abandoned the tower and fell back towards safety.  Malika tried to contain her emotions, but she had never been so relieved in all her life.  They were alive, and they would stay alive for as long as she could help it.

“All these years, Hissrad,” spat Gatt, “And you throw away all that you are?  For this?” he pointed at Malika, “For _them?”_

Malika threw herself between the two men, “His name is _Iron Bull.”_

“I suppose it is.” he said, and left without another word.

They watched as the mages reclaimed the tower and began to bombard the dreadnought.  She had saved her friends, but the ship was lost, along with all the poor souls onboard.  She wished there was something she could say, something she could do..  she didn’t know any Qunari prayers, if any existed, so she prayed to her own god.

 "‘Though all before me is shadow,’” she whispered,

“Yet shall the Maker be my guide.

I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond.

For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light

And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.

 “‘I am not alone. Even

As I stumble on the path

With my eyes closed, yet I see

The Light is here.

 “‘Draw your last breath, my friends.

Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky.

Rest at the Maker's right hand,

And be Forgiven.’”

“Come on,” said the Iron Bull when she was finished, “Let’s get back to my boys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, perhaps I'm overthinking this, but I feel like with the ending of this chapter I might be setting myself up for some angry messages, given that the Inquisitor said a prayer from the Chant of Light over the deaths of a bunch of Qunari, who don't believe in the Maker. I made this choice for two reasons, the first of which being that it is what my Inquisitor, Malika, would do, right or wrong. She is Andrastian, she believes in the Maker, and she wished to honor their sacrifice. The second reason for this choice was to mirror the scene that happens in Inquisition if you do sacrifice the Chargers. The Iron Bull states that he doesn't know any Andrastian prayers, so he says a Qunari prayer over the ashes of the Chargers. It's my belief that, given his own behavior, he would be appreciative of the intent of Malika's prayers. If this seems icky to you in any way, you have my apologies, but this is how my story goes.
> 
> Alright, now for the fun stuff. I figured after this chapter, some of you might be interested in hearing more about each of the Chargers' preferences and specialties, so I made a short post that briefly goes into it [here](http://ladysummerisle.tumblr.com/post/137861596379/ch-10-tumblr-exclusive)! 
> 
> Also, I love hearing from you guys and seeing you all on tumblr, so if you're on there you can follow my [writing/art blog](http://ladysummerisle.tumblr.com/) or my [personal/fandom blog.](http://malikafuckingcadash.tumblr.com/)  
> Thanks!!


	11. The Return

It was a quiet ride back to the Chateau; a combination of weariness and reverence.  Everyone knew what the Iron Bull had done to save his men, but no one could bring themselves to talk about it.  Not yet.  Once they reached their lodging, though, things seemed a little brighter.  A late supper was had, and the Iron Bull’s team were back to their rowdy selves.  The Iron Bull himself was another matter.  He chatted, but he didn’t touch his food, and when no one was speaking to him, he seemed distracted.  Eventually, he excused himself from the table and left.  Not long after, Malika received an email.

 _Meet me in the courtyard,_ it said, _alone_.  

It was from him.  She sat stiffly in her chair as her heart threatened to pound out of her chest.  She had no idea what to expect.  The mission--the entirety of the trip--had been such a whirlwind that she honestly had no clue where she stood with him, and after the day they just had, she could think of a great many things he might want to discuss in private... It wasn’t necessarily… She stood up from the table.  Whatever it was, she would find out soon.

The courtyard was the same as it had been the previous night.  Same green grass and golden fairy lights, only this time the Iron Bull stood alone under the tree.

“You wanted to see me?” she said.

 He took a few steps forward, but before he could say anything, a side-door to the courtyard opened and two of the kitchen staff leaped out of it.  They were carrying knives, and they dove at the Iron Bull.

“Bull!” she cried, thankful there was no silencing spell this time.  She reached for her daggers that were still strapped to her back.

“I got it!”

One of the assailants threw a dagger at him, slicing into his shoulder, but he already had a handaxe ready to counter.  He downed the first man and turned to the second, who was still hurdling towards him.

“Ibost Issala, Tal-Vashoth!”

The Iron Bull caught him in his charge and engaged him in a deadly flip, cracking his neck in the process.  The man fell to the floor, unmoving.

“Yeah, yeah...My soul is dust, but yours is dead on the ground, so…”  He rubbed the spot where the blade had pierced him and grunted, “Sorry about that.  Thought I might need some backup...guess I’m not even worth sending professionals for.”

“You knew the assassins were coming?” Malika stood with her daggers still out, wary of another attack.

“The new servants at dinner tipped me off, and my food smelled funny.  It was poisoned.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?!  We were all eating that food!”

“No, it was only mine.  They don’t want to start a war, just send a message.”

The Iron Bull seemed to have his guard down, so Malika sheathed her weapons, “Are you alright?”

“Fine.  Hurt myself worse than this fooling around in bed.”

“I hoped the Ben-Hassrath would leave you alone...”  After this, she didn’t like the idea of him and his team going back to Val Royeaux by themselves.  She would call Leliana and ensure there was protection.  Spies keeping watch on the road and more stationed near the Pen.  She would send soldiers if she could, but no... that would be too public…

“They did,” he said, breaking her train of thought, “Sending two guys with blades against me?  That’s not a hit.  That’s a formality.  Just making it clear I’m Tal-Vashoth.”  He looked away and growled under his breath, “Tal-Va- _fucking-_ shoth.”

“From what I hear, you acted like a Tal-Vashoth for years.  If that didn’t change you,  neither will this.”

“That was just a role.  This is my _life,_ as one of those... I killed hundreds of Tal-Vashoth in Seheron.  Bandits, murderers, bastards who turned their back on the Qun.  And now I’m one of them.”

“Bullshit! You’re a good man!”

“Without the Qun to live by--”

“Hey!” She had only known the Iron Bull for a short while, but she was already sick of hearing him talk about himself like he was a dangerous beast.  She knew in her heart that couldn’t possibly be true.  She wanted to find every person who ever told him he was wrong or savage or in need of _re-education_ and tear out their hearts, as they had tried to do to him.  However, something held her back from saying those things.  She settled for something a little less violent, “You’re a good man!  If the Ben-Hassrath don’t see that, it’s their loss!”

“Thanks... Anyway, I’ll get this cleaned up.”

“I’ll call Leliana and make sure she knows what happened, and I’ll personally escort you back to Val Royeaux.  You’re under Inquisition protection now.”

The Iron Bull nodded, and she turned to go.

“Malika?” he said before she reached the door.  A shiver went down her back.  There was something so intimate about hearing him say her name; knowing he was the only person who would dare address her so informally.  If someone else were to hear it... well, they’d know _something._ “Whatever I miss,” he said, “Whatever I regret...This is how I want it to be... And fighting with you today… Well, whenever you need an ass kicked, the Iron Bull is with you.”

She stood silently for a moment, remembering the previous night and how they worked together so seamlessly in battle.  Attentiveness, communication, trust, everything she could ask for in a companion were already there.  A soft smile came to her lips, “Likewise.”

When she was back inside, she leaned against the door and buried her face in her hands.  Every moment she spent with the Iron Bull, she fell deeper and deeper, and it wasn’t an easy thing to cope with.  There was a time when all she desired of him was his body and his presence.  The face he wore for her in their sessions; his “role” as he would put it, but those days felt so long ago.  Of course, she still wanted him in that way, but it was suddenly more than that.   _He_ was more than that.  So much more than she had planned for when she asked Leliana to make that first appointment.  Was it only a few months ago?  Maker, it felt like years.

“So, you and the Qunari, then, is it?”

Malika’s blood ran cold.  She didn’t need to open her eyes to see who it was, but she did.  Blackwall stood before her, face flush and brow furrowed in anguish.  It was painful to look at him.

“I’m sorry, Blackwall... I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.  I knew you could never want me... Not a woman like you.  I was lying to myself coming here.  I thought--” he paused and focused on the ground, then took a deep breath, “Nevermind.”  He turned to go, but Malika went after him.

“Wait!” she said.  He stopped and looked down at her, “I’m sorry.  I really am.  What happened between us... Well, it shouldn’t have...but it was my fault and you didn’t deserve it.”

“You don’t know what I deserve.”

“Maybe not.  All I know is that you’ve always been kind to me...and I used you, and it feels fucking terrible.”

Blackwall paused like he was going to say something, but then shook his head and let out a sigh, “Yes, it does.”  

He walked away.

 

In the morning Malika set out bright and early with the Iron Bull’s team, thankfully avoiding breakfast with her own people.  She was still shaken by her conversation with Blackwall.  She thought that apologising would make her feel better, but she felt even worse than before.  Between that and her lingering confusion over the Iron Bull, the ride back to Val Royeaux was particularly awkward.  She was lost in thought and spoke little until they reached the city.

When they arrived at the Pen, Malika donned her hood and stepped out of the car.  Without thinking about it, she found herself entering the building.  She didn’t need to.  Technically, her work with the Iron Bull was done.  She could have stayed in the van and taken it to her hotel, but going inside was like a compulsion.  Her body was used to it.  Park in the back, pull up the hood and enter the Pen.  When she stepped inside she felt an instant wave of relief.  The darkness of the hallway was calming.  She let her eyes adjust to the slow flickering lights, watching as they danced off the shining, black floor.  She inhaled the scent of leather and latex, and slid her hand over the velvet wallpaper.  If she could have anything in the world, it would have been to be at the Iron Bull’s feet in their dark room, awaiting his desire.  He had asked her back and she _had_ said yes, but she didn’t dare ask for a session now.  Not right after what he had been through; it would have been wrong to expect him to get right back to work.

Malika’s thoughts were interrupted as Rocky loudly slammed open the door, carrying in a large chest in from the car.  She stood to the side and let Bull’s team pass with their luggage, but it was hard to shake her from the hypnotic aura of the dungeon.  When the door closed, she looked back to the floor, then felt a heavy hand on her shoulder.

“Something wrong?”

“What? Oh, no…” She focused on the weight of his hand on her shoulder instead of the question, “I was just admiring the floor…”

The Iron Bull cocked his eyebrow.  She hadn’t exactly been lying, but him and his Ben-Hassrath training... he always knew everything.

“Well, it’s nothing new...nothing you don’t know about.”

“Did you talk to your Warden friend?”

“I’m not sure he’s still my friend.” She looked back at the floor and he let go of her to lean against the wall.

“What did you say?”

“I told him I was sorry and that he didn’t deserve how I treated him... He was just really upset.  He saw the two of us talking and thought...Well, you know.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I just said I was sorry.”

“You didn’t deny it?”

“No.” She looked up at him, finding his face unreadable, “I didn’t.”

They stood there in silence for a long moment, and in that moment, Malika felt more naked than she ever had spread bare before him during a session.  She wished to Andraste that for just a moment she could possess the Iron Bull’s powers of perception.  It was so infuriating that he could tell so much from her at a glance and she could never glean anything from him.  Finally, he spoke.

“I think you need to relax a bit.”  His hand came to her face and combed back her hair, “I know a way.”

“Please.” she said, her knees threatening to go weak with relief.

“Alright,” He slid his thumb absentmindedly against the soft skin of her cheek, “You go to the waiting room and I’ll get ready.”

 _Thank you, thank you, thank you,_ she repeated in her head.  The Iron Bull disappeared into a door off the hallway, and Malika went to wait as she was told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope to update with the next chapter very soon, so look out for it!
> 
> Come play with me on tumblr!  
> [Writing/Art Blog](http://ladysummerisle.tumblr.com/), [Fandom/Personal Blog.](http://malikafuckingcadash.tumblr.com/)


	12. Punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to [dragonfemmefatale](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonfemmefatale), who has taken on the arduous task of righting all my wrongs (beta reading xD).
> 
> Safety notes at end of chapter.

Malika sat in the waiting room for a small eternity before she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket.

 _Come upstairs,_ read the message.

 _By myself?_ She looked around the room, as if she might find Krem there to escort her, but no.  She was alone.

She stood on shaky legs and stepped lightly towards the door.  She reached out to the knob and turned it, acutely aware of each click the inner workings made in the silent room.  The door opened to the same red-tinged blackness she remembered from their previous sessions.  Malika usually counted darkness as her friend--it was a shield against enemy eyes, a warm cloak to hide in--but not this time.  Even though the Iron Bull wasn’t accompanying her through it, it was as if she could feel his eyes upon her, and it made the tiny hairs on her neck stand on end.  She crept up the stairs, and every creak of the floor made her heart pound harder.

The door to their room was already open when she reached the landing.  Stepping inside, she saw the Iron Bull sitting in his normal chair, silhouetted against flickering candlelight.  It was not an unusual sight, but in her state of mind he resembled a desire demon; one she could see herself succumbing to all too easily.

“Close the door,” said the devil in the chair.  

She obeyed and came before him.  He said nothing, and continued to watch her with his detached gaze until she remembered her task.  She unclasped her cloak and let it fall to the floor, followed by the daggers  she had worn the entire journey back.  They dropped with a loud thud, and she moved on to her coat.  After that, she removed her gloves one by one, allowing her left hand to fill the room with its telltale green glow.  

When it was time to remove her shirt, she hesitated.  It was odd.  This would now be the fourth time she undressed in front of the Iron Bull, yet she was more nervous than she had ever been before.  On their first meeting she had been anxious, of course, but not about being naked in front him.  It was no different from her trips to the Blooming Rose in Kirkwall.  She was his client and the illusion of intimacy was what she was paying him for, but it was different now.  They were no longer strangers putting on a show.  They had been through battle together, comforted each other through loss, and even this session was a result of their growing familiarity.

He cleared his throat, and after a deep breath, she returned to her task.  Her shirt came off and she turned around to remove her trousers, smallclothes and boots.  

“Come here,” he said when she was finished.  She stepped towards him, and he placed his hand on her cheek, drawing her in close, “Do you remember your watchword, little girl?”

She nodded.  He let his hand slide down to rest at her neck as he searched for something in his pocket with the other.  When he found what he was looking for, he held it up so she could see.  It was a silver chain, about a foot and a half long, and attached at each end were vicious looking clamps with clover shapes at the center of their metalwork.  She had used a similar device in the past, but it had been lighter and smaller, with rubber-coated tips--clearly intended for beginners.  These looked mean.  Painful.  The Iron Bull took one clamp in each hand and squeezed them, allowing the metal jaws to open over the peaks of her blushing, swollen breasts.  When he let go, she cringed.  They bit down, sudden and sharp, but after the initial shock, the pain faded into dull pressure.

“On your knees,” he said.  

She did what she was told, but it was harder than she expected.  As her body bent, the clamps pulled and twisted, causing renewed pain to blossom.  She whimpered at first, but then concentrated on her breathing as she slowly dropped to the floor.  Once she had settled and the pain had again reduced to a dull throb, the Iron Bull dropped something in front of her.  A small burlap sack, closed with a drawstring.  She recognized it immediately as the boot polish kit she used so many weeks ago.

“Get to work.”

She reached forward, and as she expected, the movement caused the clamps to stir, shocking her again with sudden pain.  Oh, the Iron Bull was devious.  He knew exactly what he was asking for.  Malika bit her lip and continued.  She pulled the sack towards her and removed its contents, all the while grimacing from the pain in her breasts.  She loaded the brush with polish and began slowly applying it to his boot.

After a while, Malika adapted to her new restriction.  She concentrated on moving slowly and applying the thick, black cream with small, circular strokes.   _I can do this_ , she thought, but as she rose up to polish the shin of his boot, the Iron Bull sought to prove her wrong.  He raised his toe, catching the chain beneath it, and stepped down.  Malika cried out in pain and the Iron Bull laughed his low, slow laugh.

“Continue.”

She did, more recklessly than before.  There was no way to avoid the deep, pulling pain of the clamps as she worked, so she had no choice but to work quickly.  The longer the clamps pulled at her, the tighter they became and the deeper the pain seeped into her chest.  She finished one boot and turned to the other.  The Iron Bull let up on the chain, giving her a moment of sweet relief before stepping down with his other foot.  She worked, whimpering from the agony, and attempting to focus as much as she could on her task.  The scent of the leather polish threatened to overpower even the pain in her breasts, and she embraced the sedative effect it had on her.  After a time, the boot began to reflect the green light of her hand, and she collapsed onto her elbows.

The Iron Bull lifted his weight from the chain and Malika slid back to curl in on herself, nearly crying from relief.

“You did a good job.”

“Thank you, Ser.” she said softly, still huddled on the floor.

“But I’m not done with you yet.  Sit up.”

She sighed and slowly rose, whining all the while as the chain continued to rock and pull.  The Iron Bull sat forward in his chair and reached out.  He cupped one breast in his hand and slid his thumb over the pinched bit of flesh poking through the clamp.  Malika moaned.  As much pain as the clamps caused where they bit, they seemed to have the opposite effect on the area around them.  She watched the Iron Bull’s dark, unreadable face as he took her other breast in hand.  She settled into the sensation, satisfied to watch his hands as she melted into the mix of pain and pleasure.  Eventually she closed her eyes, but as soon as she did, the biggest wave of pain yet hit her.  She screamed and backed away, holding her hands up to cover her breasts.  It took her a few seconds to realize that all he had done was release the clamps.  

He laughed again, the way he always did.  That smooth, growling laugh that always made her weak.  She let her hands drop and crawled towards him.  She had done a good job, perhaps it was time for a reward?

“Stand up.” he said.  She did as she was told, and he rose from his seat. He took her arm and led her across the room.  In a moment, it was clear where they were heading.  The large, wooden cross mounted to the wall.  She had admired it ever since her first visit to the Pen.  The Iron Bull had bound her wrists to one of its rings on their first meeting, but she had always desired to be bound to it properly.  He lifted her up onto a leather-upholstered platform that had been pushed up against it.  It appeared her day had finally come.

The Iron Bull had her stand facing the wall, then lifted her arms one by one and tied them to the cross’ silver rings.  It had been so long since he had used rope on her that she had forgotten how magnificent it was to see him at work.  He tied swiftly, yet sensually, wrapping her wrist in a fluid motion, then burrowing his fingers between rope and skin to test the tightness of it.  When he was satisfied, he finished with an elegant looking knot, then moved on.

“Spread your legs.” he said into her ear.  Her shoulders tensed, she hadn’t realized how close the platform brought her to his height.  She walked her feet out and he laughed.

“A little wider...” He placed his hand between her legs, just inches below her growing wetness, grabbed hold of her thigh and pulled it outward.  He was so large that he could nearly encircle the entire thing with his hand alone.

She remained mindful of his hands absentmindedly tracing up and down her calf as he secured her first ankle.  When he was through, he pulled her other leg to the final ring.  Her arms pulled at their restraints as he secured her in place--stretched and vulnerable on the cross.

The Iron Bull walked away to pick up something.  When he came back, he held the object between her face and the wall.  It was a long stick with a handle--a cane--about an inch thick and made of some sort of jointed wood.  Before she could ask what it was for, he lowered it and caught it under her neck.  He tilted her head back towards him.

“Have you been a naughty girl, Inquisitor?”

“Yes,” she breathed.  Her body stiffened as he swiftly removed the cane from her neck and dragged the tip of it down her back, finally stopping at her bottom where he rested it sidelong against her, parallel to the floor.  He teased her, bouncing it on her skin until her muscles began to unclench, then... _thwack!_  The cane came down with a stinging thud against her backside.  She squeaked, and it happened again, this time harder and preceded by a whooshing sound.  She cried out and the Iron Bull pulled her head back by the hair,

“Too much for you, little girl?  Can’t take your punishment?”

She bit her lip and shook her head.  She wanted this and she would take it, regardless of the pain.

“Good.” he said, and brought down the cane again even harder.  He went into a rhythm, dropping the cane at a different height with every blow.  It was slow and steady, but nerve wracking all the same.  She would hear the whoosh of the cane but couldn’t predict where it would drop...and the pain...it was deep and bruising, with only the slightest bit of sting.  In a way it was comforting, like a heavy, brutal massage.  The Iron Bull sensed that she was too comfortable and whacked her even harder.  Her jaw dropped and she huffed heavily.

“You like that, Inquisitor?” he said, breathing hot against her neck.

She kept her eyes shut tight against the pain and nodded.  He laughed.

“Good girl.”

He stepped back and she heard the loudest rush of air yet as the cane cracked against her skin.  She screamed and it came down again at the same intensity.  Over and over again it slapped against her skin.  She swore she could feel the heat rising from the welts it left behind.  It was agony, but even as she twitched and writhed on the cross, she remembered how she wanted this.  All other thoughts left her mind and she focused on the heavy sensations and rhythmic pounding, and just as she thought she could take no more, relief finally came.  Her mind fogged over with a red haze and she relaxed into blissful emptiness.  After a few more strokes, the Iron Bull stopped.  He dropped the cane to the floor and began untying her from the cross.

When he finished, Malika collapsed into his arms and he carried her to the bed in the far corner.  He lay her down on her stomach and gently ran his hand over her bottom.

“Got some nice bruises starting,” he said.  His voice was gentle and caring; so changed from the rough, detached tones that opened their session.  A slight hum was all she could manage in response.  She heard the Iron Bull fussing with something next to her on the bed and turned her head to see it.  He was fitting his hands into the tight leather gloves he had worn a few sessions back, then he picked up a jar that was sitting on the bed.  He opened it, and the pleasant smell of spindleweed filled the room, “I’ll see what I can do about that.”

He took a dollop of salve from the jar and lightly spread it on her skin.  It was cold and soothing against the heat of her newly formed welts.  He rubbed it in gently, every once in a while hitting a particularly sensitive spot, causing Malika to inhale sharply.  When he was finished, he set the salve aside sat on the bed.

“Think you can sit up?”

“Yeah…” she said.  She felt his massive hands reach under her arms to pull her onto his lap.  Her bottom burned under her weight at first, but a few seconds later the pain dulled and she relaxed.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked, rubbing the back of her neck with soft circles of his thumb.

“ _Maker,_ yes… you... you don’t know how much I needed that.”

“I think I do…” They were silent for a moment as the Iron Bull continued to massage up her neck towards her scalp.  “I know you’ve been beating yourself up over that whole thing with the Warden.  Before you fucked him, what did you say?”

“What did I say?”

“Did you lie to him?  Tell him you had feelings for him?  Disguise your intentions?”

“No…”  Quite the opposite, in fact.  She said she was lonely, and he knew she was drunk... She even agreed with his protests.

“Didn’t think so.  You know, you didn’t do that all on your own.  You made a mistake, had a lapse in judgement, but so did he.  He’s a grown man.  If he can’t handle rejection, that isn’t your fault.”

Malika said nothing, just considered his words... He was right.

“Anyway, let’s see how these are doing.”  He reached down and flicked a thumb over her nipple.  She cringed and whined; they were still sore from the clamps.  The Iron Bull picked up the jar of salve he had put to the side and dipped his fingers into the thick gel.

“You just want an excuse to touch my tits, don’t you?”  The words came out of her mouth before she could think them through, and she sat stiffly until she heard the Iron Bull chuckle under his breath.

“Maybe…”  He brought his hands to her breasts and began to massage the cold, soothing salve over her sensitive peaks, “Relax…”

Malika obeyed, letting her head drop back onto his chest as she enjoyed his gentle touch.  It was hard to believe that a mere two or three days ago she thought she would never see him again, but now she was in his arms as he worked his magic.  There were no other problems, no other cares.  For blissful moment, it was just her and him.

She hardly noticed when one of his hands left her chest and traveled lower on her body.  She felt pressure below her belly and looked down to see it resting directly above her crease.  Still gloved, of course... It would have been foolish to expect anything else.  Still, she wanted it.  She placed her hand on the back of his and guided it down as she adjusted her body, letting her legs fall open.  His fingers dipped between her folds and stroked just the right spot.  With all they had done already, she hardly needed a warm up.  She rocked up against him as he switched between gentle strokes of her clit and deep pressure on the spot directly above.  As she moved with him, she felt pressure at the base of her spine.  It was then that she realized he had failed to put a pillow between them.  He was hard.  He was hard and his hand was between her legs, touching her... _Maker,_ how she wanted to turn around, tear open his trousers and feel him for herself.  No fabric, no gloves, no barriers.  Her hand on his cock, his lips on hers... She felt herself edging towards a climax, and behind her the Iron Bull’s hips twitched against her.  With a few more deft strokes, she found her release.  As she rode it out, she could feel the Iron Bull tense and shake, then exhale in a deep, heaving breath.

When Malika’s high from her climax faded away, a rush of anxiety came over her.  Her thoughts came fast and disjointed... _Did that really just happen?_ What did it mean?  His gloves were on...and he touched her.  That was allowed.  That had always been part of their agreement, but was he supposed to... _Was he allowed to dry hump her until he came!?_ She thought of all the rules she learned, the paperwork she had to sign... She supposed none of it said he _couldn’t._ And of course she _wanted_ it... She had always wanted it.  Pleasing him...it had been her ultimate fantasy, but now she was confused.

For a long time the Iron Bull said nothing, just sat there with one arm around her chest and the other draped over her thigh.  Malika couldn’t take it.  She sat up and looked back at him.  For a split second, she thought he looked concerned, but soon it reverted to its normal inscrutability.  There was no reading him and she couldn’t bring herself to ask about it.  She looked death in the face on a daily basis, she fought dragons and even brought a “magister god monster” to its knees, and yet the thing that terrified her most was this--was him.  Of course _he_ didn’t actually scare her; she trusted him, quite literally, with her life.  It was the lack of him.  The idea that she might say something or do something wrong and he would leave her life forever.  Someday she would have to risk it... But not today, she told herself.  Not today.

“You should probably get dressed…” he said.

“Yeah.” She slid down to the edge of the bed and walked to the chair to collect her clothes.

“I’ll be right back.”  He left her alone and she dressed in silence, occasionally rubbing the spot on her back where she had felt him...if he wanted her... Well, she wouldn’t think about it now.  She needed to get to her hotel and clear her head.

The Iron Bull returned and walked her down the stairs.  When they reached the waiting room, he put his hand on her shoulder and bent down to her level.

“Don’t be a stranger,” he said softly into her ear, then gave her a lingering kiss on the cheek.  All she had to do was turn her head...she could kiss him, their deal would be broken and if he really wanted her... No.  She couldn’t.  When he pulled away, she said goodbye, then left the Pen alone.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone!
> 
> I just wanted to talk about caning for a minute. Caning can be a fun activity, but it is very advanced and can cause serious injuries if not done properly. If you're interested in trying caning with your parner, I recommend reading this [awesome tutorial](http://www.uberkinky.co.uk/essential-guides/impact-play-guides/beginners-guide-to-caning.html) by uberkinky. Remember to stay safe and always communicate with your partner! 
> 
> For updates and other fun stuff, follow me on tumblr!  
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	13. Direct Contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just making a note about Dwarven dreaming in case anyone gets confused. It's implied in Inquisition that a dwarf bearing the mark can dream, so Malika has had occasional dreams since the conclave. That is all.
> 
> Enjoy!

A night’s sleep didn’t help Malika.  She couldn’t stop thinking about the Iron Bull.  He was even in her dreams, which explained why she still felt so exhausted even after a full night’s rest.  Dreaming fascinated her, but it always left her feeling confused and sick.  

She remembered one of her dreams.  She was with the Iron Bull, and he pulled her close, as if he was going to kiss her, but when their lips were only inches apart, he stopped.  In the dream, she knew he wanted her, but she also knew he would never kiss her.  She had to do it.  She had to bridge the gap or it would never happen.  But dream Malika was weak.  Fear made her choke.  She did nothing, just sat still in his arms until he vanished into the fade and she was left alone.

She couldn’t put it off any longer.  She wanted him, all of him, and deep down inside she  _ knew  _ he wanted her back.  Of course, she was still worried she was wrong—Leliana’s words rung in the back of her mind.   _ Guard your heart, Inquisitor.   _ But she was through with that.  This exhausting game of Wicked Grace was distracting her more from her duties than his rejection ever could.  It had to end.  Today.

She picked up her phone and searched for the Pen’s number.  She didn’t want to send an email or wait for Lelina to make an appointment, this was too urgent.  When she found it, she took a deep breath and dialed.

Her nerves were on edge when she heard the first ring, but soon a familiar voice answered.

“The Bull’s Pen, what can we do for you?”

“Hi.”  It was awkward, she had no idea what to say.  She knew she had to be careful with her identity, even though she was quite sure the line was secure… “Um...Krem?”

“Yes?”

“Do you...know who this is?”

“Possibly.  I believe we have you in our books as a Messere...‘Mabari’?”

Malika huffed out a laugh.   _ Of course,  _ “Yes, that would be me.”

“How can we help you?” 

“Does the Iron Bull have any time today?”

“Another session already?” he said in his teasing way she was too used to by now, “Well, I guess he has a few slots open.”

Malika hummed.  A  _ session  _ wasn’t what she had in mind, but it would have to do. “Okay, yes, a session.  What do you have?”

Krem gave her a list of times and she picked the earliest one.  In less than an hour she’d be back at the Pen, and one way or the other, it would be settled.

 

In thirty minutes, a car arrived from headquarters to take her to the Pen.  Once there, Malika pulled up her hood and walked up to ring the doorbell.  Krem answered soon after, and she couldn’t help but notice the flush in his cheeks.  They were red and he seemed stiffer than usual.  He walked her to the waiting room and closed the door behind them.

“Your Worship,” he said in an uncharacteristically shaky voice, “I…”  he paused.  The way he was looking at her, it was almost like he was trying to tell her something with his eyes, but she couldn’t figure out what.

“Yes?” she said impatiently.

“Sorry… I… regret to inform you that the Iron Bull will no longer be able to see you as a client.”

 

“What!?” Malika played the words over and over in her head as she stared aghast at Krem.

“I’m sorry,” he said.  His face looked pained, “We have other Dominants, if that’s what you’d like.  I could bring some out for you.  Mistress Skinner is very popular — ”

“I don’t want another dominant!” she shouted.  Krem recoiled.   _ Shit _ .  She didn’t mean to shout at him.  This wasn’t his fault.  “I’m sorry,” she said once she could muster it, “I’m just…”  _ Confused?  Heartbroken?  Devastated? _  “Surprised… Could I be alone for a minute?”

“Certainly.”  He gave her a nod and one last wistful look.  She wished she could read his mind...but that was the Iron Bull’s talent, not hers.  When the door closed, she lifted up her hood, walked up to the wall, rested her face on it, and cried.

The nightmare demon was right.  Leliana was right.  She had been a tool, and without the Qun to impress, she was of no use to him.  She couldn’t believe how stupid she had been!  How much time and emotion had she wasted pining over him, just to be dropped so unceremoniously?  Clearly, their last session had just been a courtesy.  And her dreams...well, the Fade only shows you what you want to see.

The door creaked open behind her, and she heard unmistakeable, heavy footsteps.  She wanted to stay silent, but her mouth wouldn’t allow it.

“Why are you here?” she said coldly into the wall, “Coming to tell me to leave?  Vacate the premises for your next client?  Or do you just want to see me cry?  I know you take pleasure from other people’s pain.” 

“I didn’t mean to make you cry — ”

“Well, great!” She wheeled around to glare at him, “That makes me feel so much better!  And what exactly  _ did  _ you mean to do, huh?  Just drop me and hope I’d be satisfied getting regular beatings from fucking Skinner?!  You knew I — ” she closed her eyes against the fresh tears threatening to escape, “You know...  _ everything _ … So I guess… I guess I do know why you’re doing this.”

“No, you really don’t.”

“Oh really?  Enlighten me.”  

At first, he didn’t speak, just walked towards her slowly.  When he was so close that she had to strain her neck to look up at him, he reached out and gently pushed back her hood, running his fingers through her hair in the process.  She froze where she stood, utterly confused.  Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she looked away to hide them.  Nothing was ever simple.  She feared she was still in the Fade.  In a dream where the Iron Bull simultaneously wanted her and didn’t want her.  

He dropped to his knees and took her face in his hand, turning it back to him.  He was so close that their noses were practically brushing up against each other, and she saw scars on his face she had never seen before.

“You’re not my  _ client _ anymore.”

“No…” she said.  Her eyes briefly flitted down to his lips and back again, “I’m not.”

She kissed him.  And for the first split second it was terrifying.  But then he wrapped his arms around her body and pulled her in tight while his tongue begged for entry.  She opened and let him completely engulf her.  She was breathless and dizzy.  She couldn’t think past his huge hands holding her so close and his ravenous mouth fiercely claiming hers.  But she could feel.  Her body was alight with desire, and that desire was made sweeter by the idea it might actually be sated.

“Take me,” she whispered when she finally came up for air.

“Can do.”

He stood up with her in his arms and headed towards the front hallway.  While he was occupied with walking, she took the opportunity to continue what she started that drunken night so many weeks ago.  She kissed his shoulder and neck, then pulled herself up to nibble on his ear.  She didn’t pay attention to where they were going, but they eventually ended up in a dim room, lit only by one gold lamp that hung on a chain from the ceiling.  It created an oasis of light.  There was a bed...a four poster, perhaps?  Made of metal, not wood.  It was all she could make out in the limited time she had.  

Before she knew it, she was on her knees in his lap and his mouth was on hers again.  He held her by the hair as he kissed her slow and deep.  With his free hand, he began removing her clothes.  Malika was quick to assist and soon her cloak, coat, shirt and gloves were tossed to the floor; her mark filled the space between them with its unmistakeable green glow.  The Iron Bull leaned her back in his arms to look her over, then brought his face into the crook of her neck.  He kissed softly, bit down, then moved on, blazing a trail of kisses from her collarbone to just above her nipple.  He hovered there for a moment, letting his breath tease and harden the sensitive peak.  Malika looked down to see a devilish look in his eye before he finally licked it, then took it in his mouth.

She moaned and grabbed onto his horns, then shivered as the ridges brushed against her left hand.  She moved it quickly down to the Iron Bull’s muscular shoulder.  He groaned into her chest and pulled her in tighter.  Malika smirked.   _ He liked that… _  She slid her hand up his neck to the back of his head and down again, enjoying his muffled sounds and shakes.  When she pressed the mark lightly to his ear, he finally broke from her.

“ _ Fuck, _ ” he said, breathing heavily between words, “That’s intense.”

“Is that good?”

“Yeah…”

She placed her hand on his neck and pulled herself down for a kiss that he returned greedily.  She let her hand wander down his chest, eager to finally explore his body.  He growled into her mouth as she passed over his nipple, so she hovered over it for a moment before moving further down.  His body was massive, and her arms so short.  She had to separate from his lips to reach her intended target.  She kissed down his chest and dropped between his legs.  Her hands rested on his belt while her eyes focused on his prominent bulge.  She bit her lip and looked up for permission.  His chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath, then he nodded and unlatched his belt.  After he tossed it away, Malika set to unbuttoning his trousers while she kissed and nuzzled against his hardness.  With the last button undone, she let the fabric drape and fall, finally exposing the object of her desire.  

Her jaw dropped.  It was  _ massive.   _ Not that she had been expecting anything less, but seeing it firsthand was different.  It must have been larger than both of the toys she kept at Skyhold combined.  The thought of him trying to fit inside of her filled her with both trepidation and lust.  At this point, though, whether or not a coupling would work was irrelevant.  She had been waiting for this moment for as long as she knew the Iron Bull existed, and she was determined to make the most of it.

She started with a kiss at the base of his shaft, letting her tongue dart out to tease the loose flesh beneath.  The Iron Bull moaned and clutched at the back of her head, filling her with confidence that she was on the right track.  She worked her way upwards as slowly as she could manage, lapping sloppily at the underside of his tremendous cock until finally she was inches from the tip.  She licked around the perfect rock-hard curve at the end and then stopped at the very top with her mouth open, just shy of making contact.

The Iron Bull’s patience wore thin, and he pushed her head down.  The slight gesture of dominance made her even more eager.  She tasted and sucked on his tip while using her right hand to stroke him up and down.  The Iron Bull encouraged her with quiet noises of pleasure and murmured curses.  She attempted taking him further, but could only manage stretching her jaw just over his ridge.  She let her tongue swirl around the tip and felt him quiver in response.  It appeared that was plenty deep enough.  She set to a rhythm; her hand and mouth moving in time with one another until she decided to test her mark on this part of him.  She brought in her left hand and ran it up the side of his shaft.

He let out the loudest moan yet and grabbed her hand.  She pulled her mouth off of him and looked up.  His eye was wide and his breathing heavy,

“I’m sorry!” she said, scared that she hurt him, “Was that too much?”

“Yes — I mean — no...I just…” he breathed out and his face transformed from mild shock to his normal devilish smirk, “It’s my turn.”

He picked her up and placed her on the bed, then immediately went for her belt.  He made quick work of removing her trousers, boots and smallclothes, then knelt at the end of the bed and pulled her close.  She could feel the heat of his breath as he drew near and she was reminded of the first time she spread for him.  How nervous she was and how she idly fantasized that he would break protocol and use his mouth on her…  She hardly even knew him then, but knowing him as she did now made it all the sweeter when he finally buried his face between her legs.  She twitched at the sudden contact, then relaxed as she felt his tongue delve deep between her lips.  She reached down to grab onto his horns, careful not to hold them too roughly against her mark.  

He alternated long, soft licks with teasing flicks and bites, then placed one finger at her entrance and slowly let it slide in.  She shook and moaned at the insertion.   _ Fuck,  _ his fingers were big.  Just one was nearly the same size as the handle on her dagger.  He thrust it in and out while he lapped at her dripping, wet core.  She was getting closer to release and found herself bucking up against his face and his hand.  He pulled away and she saw him lick his lips before raising himself up to put his mouth on hers.  She could still taste herself on his tongue and feel him as he hit that perfect spot inside her again and again… then withdrew.  She whimpered with the loss, but then felt him push again at her entrance, now with two digits at once.  There was some resistance, but soon her inner walls gave way and she sighed as she stretched to accommodate them.

“ _ Fuck,  _ you’re tight…” he said as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out.

“Uh huh” she replied, hardly able to speak.  She was overwhelmed with pleasure and desire.  She couldn’t tell which was more intoxicating — the act of sex itself or the idea that it was the Iron Bull who was behind it.  Either way, it didn’t matter, she melted into his voice and ministrations.

“Definitely too tight to take my cock today…”

She whined.

“But that’s ok…” he said into her ear, “I’m going to have fun training you up… stretching you out… and making you my little qunari-cock craving slut.”

“Mmmf” she bit her lip as she came closer and closer to release.

“You like that, Inquisitor?  You wanna be my little slut?”

“Yes!”

“Yes who?”

“Yes, Iron Bull!  Yes, Ser!”

With a few more thrusts, she was coming hard, but before she could relax, the Iron Bull pulled his hand out from inside her and placed it in her mouth.  She licked his fingers as he took his cock in his other hand and placed it between her legs.  At first she thought he was trying to fuck her, but then he pressed it tight to her cunt and closed her legs around it.  He held onto her throat, squeezing it gently as he fucked her thighs.  Her heart pounded as she watched and felt him rub against her clit, and her mind fogged over from the restriction of blood and oxygen.  Finally, he growled and spent himself over her belly and chest.

When he had drained himself completely, he fell over her, supporting himself on his elbows.  They kissed slowly and deeply as both came down from their highs.  Malika was dizzy and euphoric.  The pain and hardship of the previous month — the previous  _ year _ — was now softened because all of it had led her to this moment of bliss.  In a few hours she would have to leave for Skyhold and return to her duties, but for now it was just her and the Iron Bull.  And it was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and stay tuned for more!
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr :)  
> [Writing/Art Blog](http://ladysummerisle.tumblr.com/), [Fandom/Personal Blog.](http://malikafuckingcadash.tumblr.com/)


	14. Light and Casual

_ Tap tap tap.   _ Malika woke to a light knocking at the door.  Her eyes slowly blinked open to a dark room, tinted gold by a dangling lamp on the ceiling.  She could remember now.  This was the Iron Bull’s room... _ This was the Iron Bull’s room! _

_ Tap Tap Tap!   _ This time it was louder.  Insistent.

“Go away, Krem…” said the Iron Bull sleepily, “What did I tell you?”

He stirred, and It was only then that Malika realized she’d been using his arm as a pillow.  She felt his hand on her side as he pulled her closer. 

“What time is it…?” She mumbled.

“I’m sorry,” said Krem’s muffled voice on the other side of the door, “But there’s an urgent call… For Messere Mabari.”

“Oh fuck, what time is it!?” She had put her phone on silent, same as she did every time she visited the Iron Bull, but their sessions were usually no longer than an hour; she hadn’t planned on falling asleep.  She pulled out of the Iron Bull’s embrace, climbed off the side of the bed and fell to her knees — it was a lot taller than she had expected.  She scrambled towards the door and threw herself at it.  After unlocking it and cracking it open, she reached through and was handed a phone.

“Yes?”

“Good evening! How nice of you to take my call.” It was Leliana; she did not sound pleased. Malika’s stomach lurched.   _ Good evening,  _ she was supposed to be back in the early afternoon! “I do hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry… I meant to leave earlier but…” She glanced over to the bed where the Iron Bull was now sitting up, his shoulders and horns creating a striking silhouette against the wall, “Something came up.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.  We expected you hours ago — a day ago, actually, but at least you had the courtesy to warn us about  _ that  _ little delay.  We couldn’t reach you by phone.  Cullen nearly declared a state of emergency.” Leliana’s voice rang with the same kind of calm agitation as when she would casually suggest assassins at the war table.

“OK!” Whispered Malika aggressively, “ I get it!  I’ll never step away from my phone again!  At least you were able to find me...”

“Oh,  _ I _ always knew where you were. And you should know, my opinion on the matter has not changed — ”

“Look, I’m leaving  _ now.   _ We’ll talk about this when I get back to Skyhold.”

“I intend to.”

Malika hung up, then quickly shoved the phone back through the door.

“Forgot to tell them where you were?”

“I was in a hurry…” She leaned against the door and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands, “And I haven’t exactly been thinking straight.”

“Yeah… Sorry about that.”  Bull clicked a button and the lights in the room came up. The bedroom was sparse, with only a few dressers lining the walls.  Malika had been right about the bed; it was a four-poster of sorts, made of black metal.  Instead of a canopy of fabric, the top was criss-crossed with metal rods, each with at least two rings welded on.  The platform the mattress sat on was made of similar rods, only these were lined up vertically next to each other, giving the impression of a cage.  The Iron Bull sat atop it and reclined against the headboard, looking like a sensual dragon.  If she could, she would have spent the rest of the day exploring that bed with him; finding out the secrets behind its intricate designs, but she  _ desperately  _ needed to leave.

“Well, it’s not  _ all _ your fault,” She pulled her shirt on over her head, “I’ve made plenty of bad decisions all on my own.”

The Iron Bull laughed, “I just hope this helped clear your head.”

She hummed…  _ This? Help clear my head?  _ It wasn’t likely.  __ Now that they had done… all they had done, she had even more questions.  This morning, her only question was, “Does he want me or not?” And  _ want  _ was such a loose idea.  The answer would be the same whether he just wanted to fuck her one time or if he wanted something… more.

“So… What  _ is  _ this?” She asked,  “What  _ are  _ we doing?”

“That’s up to you.” He adjusted himself on the bed, letting his legs fall over the side, “If you want it light and casual, that’s fine by me.”

She thought about his words as she buttoned her trousers…  _ That’s up to you _ … What did that even mean?  Could she invite him to Skyhold?  Go public and have him live as her consort?  No, that was ridiculous…They had only just begun whatever this was.  Besides, even if she  _ did  _ want that, and even if he  _ agreed, _ it would be foolish.  She had to think about her image, her mission, her sacred duty as Andraste’s Herald.  She took a deep breath.

“Ok.  Casual.  That’s good.”

After she finished dressing, she walked over to the him and pulled out her phone.  She cringed as she saw the number of missed calls and messages, but she tried to ignore them for the moment.

“Since this isn’t  _ professional  _ anymore, I guess you should have my private number.”  Just extending the offer felt naughty.  It was the first time she’d personally offered it to anyone since she got her Inquisition phone.  Only top agents and administrators were given the privilege of access to the Inquisitor’s private line, and those people all had to be cleared through Leliana first.  Given her tense conversation with Leliana just moments ago, she knew she wouldn’t approve.   _ But fuck Leliana _ .  She didn’t know the Iron Bull.  She hadn’t fought beside him, or witnessed him sacrificing his whole culture for a handful of his friends.  She hadn’t kissed him or held him or made love to him.  Clearly, all he was to her was a lost alliance and a liability.  She knew nothing.

“You sure Red’s OK with that?”

Malika shook her head, “No, but guess what?  She works for  _ me _ .”

“Careful, Inquisitor,” said the Iron Bull as he reached into his bedside

table, “That spymaster of yours is an intimidating woman.”

Malika lifted up her marked hand and pointed at it, “So am I.”

“Good point.”  He pulled out his phone and Malika stifled a laugh at his pink, bejewelled case. 

“What?”

“Your phone — it’s pink!”

“It’s  _ pretty _ ,” he said, reaching down and pulling her onto his lap.  He nuzzled into her hair and she felt his breath on her ear, “I like pretty things.”

She smiled to herself, glowing on the inside almost enough to open a rift.  She watched as he turned on his phone, and smirked when she saw his background: a painting of a red-headed elf in a skimpy leather outfit, posing in front of dragon.  That was closer to what she had been expecting.  He opened his text messenger.

“Your number?”

She gave it to him, and after a moment her phone vibrated in her hand.

_ Nice ass,  _ said the message.  It was followed by a winking emoticon and the initials “IB”

She chuckled and texted him back.

_ How dare you!  I am the Inquisitor. _

He smiled as he read it, and replied.

_ The Ass-Quisitor. _

They giggled together, then Malika sighed.

“I need to go… I really,  _ really  _ need to go.”

“Yeah, I know.” He put his phone down and pulled her up into a long, deep kiss.  She took the opportunity to trace her fingers along his chest and shoulder, up the back of his neck and around his horn.  Only the Maker knew when she would touch him again, and she was determined to remember every magnificent detail of him until then.

Slowly they separated, letting their noses brush up against each other and eyes linger for a time.  She could add another to the ever-growing list of gifts the Iron Bull had: he made her never want to leave.

“Tell Red I said Hi,” he said once they finally parted.

“Oh I will…” She shook her head and rolled her eyes, “Believe me, you’re on her mind, too.”

She moved to climb off of him, but he pulled her back.

“And Malika,” he said as his free hand dipped between her legs, pressing hard against the taut leather at her crotch, “You better start working on that tight, little cunt of yours.  I meant what I said about training you up.”

“Yes, Ser.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	15. A Warning

When Malika arrived at Skyhold, it was already deep into the night.  The courtyard was dark, dotted here and there with golden speckles of lamplight.  Some were still, and others moved as workers and soldiers milled about the castle on their nightly duties.  Malika trudged across the lawn, through puddles and up the great stone staircases that led to the main hall.  Inside was warm and welcoming, but it didn’t fool her.  Somewhere on these grounds was a red-headed nug-lover who was about to rip her a new one.  It was foolish to try to avoid it, so she made her way to the rookery.

When she entered the rotunda, it was mostly empty.  Solas had already gone to his room, but Malika took a moment to admire the new, partially finished fresco.  She saw black and grey and the beginnings of a Grey Warden crest.  Clearly this one was to commemorate their victory at Adamant Fortress.  Indeed, it was a victory, regardless of how it made her feel.  Erimond  _ was  _ defeated and the Grey Wardens were saved from themselves.  

She passed by Dorian’s usual spot in the library to find it also empty; not that she minded.  One of her concerned, unanswered messages was from him, and he had asked bluntly if she was with the Iron Bull.  He would certainly have something to say if she spoke to him now.

Finally she reached the third story landing and saw Leliana at her table, head in hand, gazing ponderously at a tablet in front of her.

“Inquisitor,” she said without looking up, “I’m surprised you sought me out.”

“You wanted to talk.  Let’s talk.”

“Very well.”  She stood up from her table and walked towards the small shrine she shared her space with. “You think I am angry,” she said, “I am not...  I understand how you must feel.  The weight of Thedas is on your shoulders.  You long for relief—for simple pleasures—and you should.  If anyone in Thedas deserves to disconnect from the world and roll around in bed with their lover all day, it’s you.  I am not upset about that, but I am concerned.”

“About what?  Before you said I shouldn’t trust him because he was a ‘professional and a spy,’ but he left the Qun, and I’m not his client anymore.”

“Ah…” Leliana brought her hand to her chin and furrowed her brow, “So it’s official then.  You have ended your contract with him?”

Malika nodded.  Leliana hummed and busied her hands wiping dust off of the statue of Andraste as she continued.

“I am concerned about a great many things.  You say that the Iron Bull is no longer an agent of the Qun, and while I don’t suspect deception from you, I do find that hard to believe.  Ties to such an organization are never cut so easily.”

“You think he’s  _ lying?   _ You weren’t there, Leliana.  The dreadnought—and then the assassins—”

“I don’t know,” she interrupted sternly, “but that is only one of my concerns.”  She turned to Malika and looked her in the eye for the first time since they started speaking, “Are you aware of the risk you exposed yourself to when you ended your contract?”

Malika stared at her blankly.

“Of course you’re not.  You are blinded by your desires.  I have been in your shoes.  Young.  _  Infatuated.”  _

Malika scoffed; she wasn’t all that much younger than Leliana herself, and this was hardly her first affair.

“She was a spy,” said Leliana, ignoring her reaction, “much like your Iron Bull.  I thought she loved me; I was wrong.  She was using me, and in the end, she betrayed me.”

Silence fell between the two women.  Malika hadn’t heard her speak so candidly since her outburst about Justinia in Haven.

“Our relationship ended with a knife in my belly.  I wonder where yours will end.”

“Th-the Iron Bull…” sputtered Malika, “He’s not like that! You don’t know him like I do—”

“You  _ hardly  _ know him.  How long has it been?  Three months?  Four?  You’ve seen him a handful of times, and he has done what you paid for.  Made you feel safe, made you  _ trust _ him.  He’s done an excellent job; see how fast you jump to defend him?  He has you well trained.”

“I’m not listening to this bullshit.”  She turned to go, but Leliana stopped her.

“You might be right, Inquisitor.  I  _ hope  _ you are right.  But if you are wrong?  At best, he will expose you.  Without the agreement, he is no longer bound to confidentiality, and revealing you as his lover could attract more clients.  At worst?  With your tastes, it would be simple enough to make murder look like a tragic bedroom accident.”

Malika was fuming.  She was furious that Leliana would even entertain these ideas, but at the same time she couldn’t deny their plausibility.

“Even if his intentions are pure…” said Leliana in a softer tone, “I worry for your safety.  An innocent error  _ could  _ prove fatal due to his size alone.  If you wish to return to him, I will not stop you.  I will keep your secret and help you as best I can.  But please, Inquisitor, be careful.  Talk to him.  Be sure you are of the same mind.”

Malika nodded in spite of the scowl on her face, then left for her quarters.

As much as she loathed to admit it, Leliana had a point.  In her heart she  _ knew  _ the Iron Bull would never hurt her… but her heart was not always right.  At the very least, she needed to find out exactly what the difference was between being his client and being his lover.   _ Would  _ he talk openly about their relationship?  And what of her watchword?  Was that thrown out with their contract?  She would ask the next time she spoke to him, but for now, at least, she was glad to see her own bed.

She peeled back the covers and was relieved to see that her sheets had been changed.  That, along with the bath she had taken at the chateau, meant that all the remaining grime from her earlier mistake had been washed away.  Though, as she removed her clothes she became aware of a new scent.  Similar to the one she had removed, but this was different.  It was pleasant—welcome.  It was the scent of the Iron Bull, still clinging to her.  She pulled off her shirt and pressed it to her face, taking deep breaths as if inhaling enough of him would make him appear before her.  Perhaps she  _ was _ blinded by desire… Or perhaps Leliana was blinded by suspicion.  All she knew was that even something so simple as his lingering scent on her clothes made her feel safe… happy… at peace.

She finished undressing, but kept her top with her as she climbed into bed.  She stretched it over a spare pillow, stacked it on top of another, then curled up against it.  It was a sad excuse for the real thing, but it was comforting nonetheless.  Soon, she would talk to the Iron Bull and ask the hard questions.  But for now, she would sleep, and pray for the Maker to bless her with happy dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr!  
> [Writing/Art Blog](http://ladysummerisle.tumblr.com/), [Fandom/Personal Blog.](http://malikafuckingcadash.tumblr.com/)


	16. A Calculated Risk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have to give a shout-out this week to dragonfemmefatale. She really came through as a beta and made this chapter so much more than its first draft.
> 
> Thank you <3

Malika’s first day back at Skyhold was a long one.  She woke in the morning and headed straight to the war room, where she remained for over eight hours.  In addition to her normal briefings, she was bombarded with questions about the Iron Bull.  Leliana was thankfully acting as an ally, but she couldn’t answer every question.  Malika had to lie far more than she was entirely comfortable with, but Cullen and Josephine were easy to fool.  They seemed perfectly content to accept that the Inquisitor had lost track of time discussing leather maintenance with her Qunari contact.

The rest of the time was spent planning the Inquisition’s next big move: stopping the assassination of Empress Celene.  In a few months’ time, they would attend a ball in Halamshiral.  It seemed the most likely occasion for the assassination to occur, and preventing it would take no small amount of preparation.  The Inquisitor was to begin her study of Orlesian culture and politics immediately, including cultivating a lifetime’s worth of skill in the “Grand Game.”

The Iron Bull was on her mind the whole day.  He had messaged her the previous night after she was already asleep.   _Did you make it back ok?_ Said the first one, and when she hadn’t answered in an hour, _Did you get your ass handed to you?_

She hadn’t answered;  not even to say she was safe.  She should have. She knew she should have, but she was terrified.  What if he wanted to talk more?  What if he could tell she was having second thoughts?  Oh, who was she kidding...  He knew.  He always knew.

She needed to talk to someone. Someone who wasn’t Leliana.  Back in the Free Marches, she would have gone to her brother.  His proposed solutions to her problems were often unnecessarily harsh and bloody—he was a Carta dwarf through and through—but he was a good listener and always encouraged her to make her own decisions.  She couldn’t talk to him now.  What Leliana was to her, her brother was to their family, and the Inquisitor does not simply call the spymaster of the Cadash crime family for a heart to heart, whether or not she believes he will keep her secrets.

No, she needed to talk to someone in the Inquisition.  Someone she trusted, who wouldn’t judge, and who might actually have some helpful experience.  As it dawned on her who she had to talk to, she rolled her eyes thinking about the smug look he would have on his face when she asked him for help, but she had to do it.  When they were finally done in the war room, she went on a search for Dorian.

After exhausting all of his usual haunts, she finally found him tucked away in the small, auxiliary library near the kitchens.

“Inquisitor!” he said when he saw her at the door, “You’re back!  And you can  _ walk!   _ Color me surprised...”

“Why wouldn’t I—” She stifled a chuckle as she got the joke, and hurriedly closed the door, “Maker, Dorian, anyone could hear!”

“In this dusty little room?  This late in the evening?  Not likely.”   He took a book he had been leafing through and replaced it on the shelf, “So what brings you to this end of the castle?  Need a particular book, or are you just here to bask in my luminous glow?”

“Actually, I  _ was  _ looking for you… I um… need your… advice.”

“Hm… Seems serious.  Alright then, I’m game.  What’s on your mind?”

“How well do you know the Iron Bull?”

Dorian raised his eyebrows, “Oh!  So… he hasn’t spoken of me?”

“Not at all.  I asked about you, but he just brushed it off.”

“I see…” Dorian looked thoughtfully at the ground, “I suppose that  _ is  _ what I paid for... The truth is, I don’t know him very well at all.  I only ever visited the one time, and that was  _ years  _ ago.  Of course, when I saw him, I recognized him instantly.  His is not a face one easily forgets… Why do you ask?”

“I…” she fidgeted with her hands… where to even start? “I slept with him… yesterday.  That’s why I was so late.”

“Oh-ho!  I see… I assumed you already had, what with the intimate moment we interrupted the other night.  Tell me,”  he started conspiratorially, “ since we’re confessing secrets… You and Blackwall?”

Malika groaned.

“Ha!  I knew it… Sera might be thick as a brick, but  _ I  _ knew it!  So what do you need advice on?  Juggling two men at once?  Because sadly, attractive and well dressed as I may be, I’ve never actually had that problem.”

“No…” She took a deep breath and decided to tell Dorian everything.  How Leliana had encouraged her to see the Iron Bull in the first place, and how they struck up the impromptu alliance.  She told him how she made a fool of herself on their third session, and how she tried to use Blackwall to get over him.  They talked about the mission on the Storm Coast, and all she had learned about Bull and his mixed feelings towards the Qun.  Then she told him about her last visit to him, and Leliana’s subsequent warning.

“She does make a strong case,” he said after thinking on it. “But there’s something missing from her argument.”

“What’s that?”

“A motive… Even if the Iron Bull _were_ still an agent of the Qun—an idea I find wholly unlikely given all the things he told you and the whole dreadnought incident—why would they want you dead?  Why now?”

“To make it easier to conquer Thedas?”

“If this were any other war and you were any other leader, I would agree, but if I know anything, it’s that the Qunari aren’t stupid.  Their leaders have looked outside and seen the sky.  They understand what’s at stake, and we all know there’s only one person who stands a chance at fixing it… You.”

Malika clenched her left hand, then opened it upwards so that the mark shone on their faces.

“Without  _ that,”  _ he pointed at her mark, “all of Thedas is lost.  The Qunari know that, and so does the Iron Bull.”

“Yeah…” she said as she watched the light in her hand flicker, “But what about outing me?  Do you think he’ll do that?”

Dorian scoffed, “Not if he likes his current clientele.  Sure, exposing you as his lover might attract some curious passers-by, but any clients of importance would cut ties immediately.  It seems to me that the bulk of his income must be earned from wealthy repeat customers who have a vested interest in secrecy, and outing you— legal and ethical quibbles about correctness aside —would be enough to scare them off.”

He was right.  It would make no sense… not in the long term, at least.

“So you think Leliana’s wrong?  About all of it?”

“It seems to me that Leliana’s opinions are colored by her past experiences.  She was double-crossed by her lover.  Her lover was a talented spy, so now all spies are suspect.  Have you ever been betrayed by a lover, Inquisitor?”

She nodded.

“Were they a spy?”

“No.”

“So heartbreakers come from all walks of life, yes?  Just because the Iron Bull is an expert of deception doesn’t necessarily mean he is deceiving  _ you.   _ Of course, he  _ could  _ be… But so could anyone.  Trust is always a calculated risk.”

“Yeah… you’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

She thanked him and said goodnight.  She had been worried that his previous involvement with the Iron Bull would cause tension between them, but it didn’t.  And she was worried he would be petty and dismissive, but he wasn’t.  He gave her encouragement, and good advice… It had been so long since she had a true  _ friend.   _ Not only someone whose company she enjoyed, but who she could also confide in and not feel like they would use her trust to manipulate her.  Dorian had said that trust is a calculated risk, but it was a risk she was happy to take on him.

Although Dorian had put her mind at ease about his intentions, the thought of calling the Iron Bull was still intimidating.  She couldn’t completely discount what Leliana had said.  What concerned her most was her watchword.  She remembered the last time they were together—how he choked her as he finished between her thighs.  He hadn’t sustained it long enough to cause her to worry at the time, but if that was something he wanted to do again, she needed a way to tell him to stop; she needed to know that he  _ would _ .

She reached her chambers and sat on her bed.  She couldn’t put off calling the Iron Bull any longer and she knew it.  Her hand shook as she pulled the phone out of her pocket and searched through her contacts.

_ I.B. _

She took a deep breath and clicked his name.  It rang twice.

“I was wondering when you would call,” he said in his deep, unmistakeable voice.

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine.  You’re a busy woman.  I understand…” He paused for her to speak, but her mind went blank... “ Anyway, you should know that I talked to Red.”

Her stomach clenched, “Oh?”

“I offered her the same service I was providing my people.  With all the Inquisition agents patrolling the red lantern district for us, I figured we owe you one.  Any useful information my staff acquires will be passed on to her—minus anything that might expose the identity of our clients.  She accepted.”

“Is that all you talked about?”

Bull chuckled, “No.  She also said that if anything happened to you on my watch, those same agents would be coming for me personally, even if it was an accident.  Oh, by the way.  You said you miss your brother?  He misses you, too.”

“...What!?”

“Yeah… He sent me a message…”

  
“No, no, no, no, no…” Someone receiving a _message_ from her brother was never good.  Her thoughts went immediately to the Iron Bull’s men, “Maker, is everyone ok!?”

The Iron Bull laughed again, “Yeah.  And the way you sound makes me think I got off easy.”

“What did he do?”

“I’ll send a picture… Check your email.”

She took her laptop from where it lay on the other side of the bed and opened it.  By the time it started up she had a new message.  She clicked on it and an image loaded.  In the front was a letter, written clearly in her brother’s handwriting,

_ Treat her well. _

_ Big brother is watching. _

She huffed,  _ Big brother?  By five fucking minutes…  _ But then she noticed what was behind the letter.  It was a large box with a tuft of fur sticking out the top and a long, familiarly shaped horn.  She sighed sadly.  Some poor farmer had to wake up to  _ that  _ grizzly scene in their barn...

_ “Maker…” _

“I’m impressed,” Bull almost sounded excited, “I can’t figure out how he’d know… And that’s… different for me.”

“The Storm Coast...” Malika had already thought about it.  She knew his ways, “A giant red lyrium shipping operation just across the sea from his territory?  He must have had men there, too.  If they saw me… and they saw you… Well…” she laughed, “He knows me well...”

“You have a lot of people who care about you.”

“I guess I do…” It was a thought that hadn't occurred to her before. The conversation lulled, so she steeled her will and got to the point, “Ok… We need to talk about… everything that’s happened.”

“Sure…” He said casually, “What’s on your mind?”

“The agreement I signed when I first came to you.  That’s all void now, right?”

“Legally, yes.  But I’m still bound to confidentiality when it comes to the time you spent as my client.”

“What about now?”

“Now…” he paused for a moment, “Now is… a little less clear.  I can tell anyone I want about what happened yesterday, but it sounds like you wouldn’t like that…”

“No, I wouldn’t.” She cringed, not realizing how harsh those words would feel to say.  If she wasn’t the Inquisitor, she would delight in the idea of people knowing about her and the Iron Bull, regardless of his occupation or past ties.  But she  _ was _ the Inquisitor, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright,” he said, although he didn’t sound as sure as she would have liked.  She was reminded of how he sounded when he talked about the Qunari alliance.  “Look, Inquisitor… I’m not going to tell anyone about what’s happening between us.  I know what’s at stake for you, and I need your trust if we’re going to keep doing this… But I’m not the only one who can talk.  If you keep seeing me, there’s a good chance people will find out, like your brother did.  Can you accept that risk?”

She had accepted that risk long ago.  It was always a possibility.  The idea of her private affairs being made public was an unpleasant thought, but one she could live with… Her real fear was betrayal.  She had to look inside herself and decide if she really did, truly, trust the Iron Bull…

“Yes.”

“That’s… good to hear.  Is that the only thing you’re worried about?”

“Our watchword—” she blurted, “Is it… Can I still use it?”

“Oh, that… I suppose we should have talked about it before we just went at it… The watchword.  That’s non-negotiable.  You can always use it and I will always stop.  No matter what.”

“And if I can’t breathe?  If your hand’s on my throat and I can’t say it?  What then?”

“Shit.  I’m sorry… There are other ways.  I should have told you.  This is all… You know… New to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never fucked a client before.”

“Oh…”   _ He hadn’t? _  She didn’t know what to say...

“Anyway...” he continued after a moment’s silence, “if you’re worried about the watchword, we can lay off the rough stuff for a while—”

“No!” she cried.   _ The rough stuff… _  She craved that more than anything!  And as long as she could use her watchword, she  _ wanted  _ it.  “I’m sorry… I mean no, please,  _ Ser _ .” 

“Hmmm…”

He laughed.  It was his deep, dark laugh she was so used to, but this time it sounded almost triumphant.  It was the kind of laugh that made her want to tear off her clothes and surrender herself to his whim.

“ _ Ser…”  _ He said with a growl in his voice, “Such a polite little girl…”

He paused for a moment, but she could hear the squeak of a chair and the rustle of some fabric.  She felt anticipation build, but she didn’t know what for… There wasn’t much they could do over the phone.

“Do you want to be a good girl for me?  Right now?” The tone of his voice made her shudder.  Her body responded; she felt blood rush to her cheeks and the telltale throbbing between her legs.

“Yes, Ser…”

“You have any toys up there or does the Inquisitor just use her fingers to get off?”

She laughed nervously.  Despite what they had done together, she always felt a little naughty when talking about pleasuring herself.

“I have  _ some _ … two.”

He hummed approvingly, “Sizes?”

“Well… One’s small, and the other… Well, it’s not  _ you _ .”

“Does it fit?”

“I haven’t tried it, Ser.” She hadn’t had the time.

“Get it out.”

She did as she was told and went to her dresser, where the wooden phallus was hidden under a pile of clothes.  She picked it up and was taken aback… in her memory it had been quite a bit smaller.  She took it back to the bed and put the Iron Bull on speaker.

“Ok…”

“Are you wet for me, Inquisitor?”

“Yes, Ser.” She could already feel the slickness every time she shifted her body.

“Good girl… Now take your clothes off for me.”

She peeled out of her clothes without hesitation, already itching to touch herself—to find relief.  She didn’t know what it was the Iron Bull did, but even over the phone he did it so damn well.

When he heard her movements stop, the Iron Bull continued.

“Now take that toy and get on all fours.  Can you do that?”

“Yes, Ser.”

“Do you want that cock, Inquisitor?” He spoke slowly… sensually.  She hung onto his words; just hearing him  _ talk _ about what he wanted her to do was enough to make her moan softly under her breath, “Do you want to feel it stretch out that tight, little cunt of yours?”

“Yes… Please… please…”

“Good girl… Can you stand it up under you?”

“M-hmm”

“Good… Now let’s see if we can make it fit.”

“Yes, Ser.”

She lowered herself until she felt the smooth wood press up against her slick opening.  It was met with some resistance, so she rocked back and forth, willing herself to relax.

“Is it in?”

“No…”  She pushed down and shuddered as just the head breached her entry.  It popped back out and she let it rest again at her opening.

“Take it slow… We’ll have plenty of time to play rough when I take that pussy for my own, won’t we, little girl?”

She moaned as she thought of the Iron Bull fucking her… If she ever wanted that, she needed to get this in now.  She rocked back and mewled as the head penetrated her again.

“How’s it going?” he asked.  She could see his wicked smirk in her mind’s eye, and she imagined he was there with her, watching her with his detached gaze as she struggled.  She longed so much to please him, even if it was just as his entertainment.  She sunk deeper as she thought of him in his room, stroking himself to the sounds of her progress.

“Almost there…”  She pushed down further and further as her walls gave way, accepting the intrusion.  When it finally reached the back and she let out a long sigh.

“Good girl…” The Iron Bull’s voice sounded distant and thin.  Her consciousness was torn.  She tried to listen, but it was hard to focus on anything but the deep stretching inside her, “Can you fuck yourself?”

“Uhh...huh…” Words were hard.

“What was that?”

“Y-yes… Ser…”

“Good girl.”

She lifted herself up until the toy was just at her entrance, and whimpered as she slid back down.  This time was easier.  She lowered herself until she was filled completely, then continued to hold the base as she rose up.  It was a tight fit, but her body adapted, and soon it hit a spot that made her sigh with pleasure every time it passed.

“Good girl… Good little slut… Does that feel good?  Do you like having your cunt full of that cock?”

“Yes, Iron Bull!”  She quickened her pace and imagined it was the Iron Bull thrusting into her as he continued to give her praise.

“That’s a good girl…” he said again, “Are you going to come for me?  Are you going to be a good little slut and come for the Iron Bull.”

“Yes!  Oh fuck, yes… yes… yes...”

“How close are you?”

“I’m almost there… please… fuck…”

“Stop!”

She froze and clenched around the toy.

“Wait—what happened—why?”

“Take it out.”

She whined, but did as she was told.  She felt incomplete—on edge and empty.

“Why?  Why can’t I finish!?”

“I told you…” his voice was dark and mean.  It sent shivers up her spine and made her wish all the more that she still had the toy within her, “ _ Not _ to avoid me.  Did I not?”

She let out a huff of disappointment, “Yes… you did…”

“The first time I was willing to let you slide, but this time you’re getting a punishment.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ser.” She clenched against the pressure between her legs.  She was sure she could take whatever it was as long as she was allowed to finish tonight. 

“Every day from now until you see me again, you will fuck yourself the same way you did tonight.  Same toy, same position.  And every time you do, just when you think you can’t take it any more and are begging for release, you will stop.  Not one orgasm without my permission.  Is that clear?”

She let out a long, wounded sigh, then fell sideways on the bed, “Yes, Ser…” 

“Be a good girl, Malika.  I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, everyone!
> 
> Come play with me on Tumblr!  
> [Writing/Art Blog](http://ladysummerisle.tumblr.com/), [Fandom/Personal Blog.](http://malikafuckingcadash.tumblr.com/)


	17. Her Reward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to take a moment to shamelessly show off [this commission](http://itsprecioustime.tumblr.com/post/143808601578/commission-for-malikafuckingcadash-of-a-fallout) I had done by Crystal Graziano. She's an amazing artist and was so great to work with! If you're not familiar with Fallout, I had her do a crossover piece with Malika as the Sole Survivor and Iron Bull as a Super Mutant and I'm super happy with how it turned out!
> 
> On a similar note, I've gotten some excellent art gifts from readers, but I've never posted them before because they weren't directly related to this fic, but what the hell, I'll share them now!  
> [This Beautiful OC Kiss day painting](http://ladysummerisle.tumblr.com/post/137100792229/dragonageisourjam-another-surprise-kissy-kissy) by [OneAndTheOther](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ThousandGenerations) of Malika and their Fen'Asha Lavellan.  
> [This amazing portrait of me](http://racheltheretrophile.tumblr.com/post/137202679775/so-i-read-the-bulls-pen-by-malikafuckingcadash) from RacheltheRetrophile.  
> Thanks friends!

Malika stood at the back door of the Pen, hood drawn over her face, overnight bag over her shoulder.  Three arduous weeks had passed since she last stepped through this door, which meant it had been two weeks and six days since the Iron Bull assigned her punishment.  She spent most of her time away in Emprise du Lion; it was cold and brutal.  She hardly had any time to herself, yet she did as she was told.  Packed away beneath her clothes and armor, the massive, wooden phallus waited for her, and every night when the rest of her companions went to sleep, she would use it.  In a way, the task became easier as the days went by; now when she inserted the toy, it met hardly any resistance at all.  Of course, penetration was never the hardest part of the task.  Bringing herself to the edge of a climax just to immediately deny herself release became more difficult with each passing night.  By the time she returned to Skyhold, she was desperate for release, and more than that, desperate to see the Iron Bull again.  She thanked the Maker when she returned to the War Room and found that her next mission took her far west to the Hissing Wastes, with an overnight stop in Val Royeaux on the way.

She called the Iron Bull and made plans.  He expected her, yet knocking on the door still filled her with trepidation.  This would be her first time entering the Pen since he dropped her as a client.  He was no longer the “Qunari she paid to abuse her.” Now he was… something else.

Krem answered the door, and his broad smile caught Malika off-guard.  He ushered her in and led her to a different room than usual.  It was an office with a large, mahogany desk strewn with papers, letters and the odd weapon.  Krem gestured to a carved, wooden chair towards the near side of the desk.  Malika climbed into it as he closed the door.

“Your Worship,” he said once the door closed, “Great having you here again… Glad Bull didn’t scare you off last time.”

Malika laughed, “Last time… Last time you were no help at all!”

He backed away and put his hands up in play-defensiveness, “Hey, everything worked out alright— and it wasn’t my idea… Anyway,” he added in a more sincere tone, “I’m glad you didn’t ask for another Dominant… we all are.”

“Really? Is my reputation really that bad?”

Before Krem could answer, swift, heavy footsteps sounded from the hallway, the door swung open, and the Iron Bull stepped through _._ Malika jumped to her feet.   _Maker_ , no matter how many times she saw him, he never failed to amaze her.  His mouth quirked into an evil smirk, and she practically swooned.  She took a few uneasy steps towards him before breaking into a short sprint and leaping into his arms.  He caught her mid jump and pulled her in close, letting her lips reach his.  She kissed him ravenously, and the Iron Bull eagerly reciprocated. She found herself not caring about the open door or Krem’s snickers behind her.   When they separated she continued to pepper kisses on his cheeks, chin, nose and anywhere else she could reach.  The Iron Bull chuckled.

“Good to see you, too.” He held her close as he walked to a door on the far side of the room, “See you later, Krem.”

Malika glanced behind her as he opened the door and was surprised to see the Iron Bull’s bedroom; clearly her mind had been elsewhere on her last visit.  She didn’t remember the office at all.  His room, however, was exactly as she recalled; complete with gold hanging lamp and intriguing metal bed.  The only change was a large leather armchair that the Iron Bull sat down in, keeping her kneeling on his lap.  He pulled her in close and brushed her bangs out of her eyes before delving in for another kiss.  Malika luxuriated in the feel, taste and scent of him, letting her body relax in his overwhelming embrace.  After a time, he pulled back.  She leaned forward to find his lips again, but he grasped her by the hair to stop her.

“So…” he said teasingly, “has the Inquisitor been a good girl while she was away?”

“You know I have…” She’d texted him nearly every day on the road, usually begging him for a reprieve from her punishment.  His answer was always no.

“I know you _say_ you have…” His hand slid down her bottom, fingers sliding between her thighs to press against her heat, “If you’ve been taking that cock every day, it must be sliding in like nothing…”  

“It is!  I brought it—I can show you.”

Her pack was still slung across her back.  She leaned back and tried to pull it around the front, but the Iron Bull caught her roughly by the arms.

“Patience, Inquisitor.” _Maker,_ his voice when he was stern; arresting, yet gentle.  It held her like quicksand.  He leaned in close, brushing his nose against hers, “We have all night… But before we start, we need to talk about your watchword… or, well… what to do if you can’t say it.  If you need to stop, and you can’t say the watchword, all you need to do is shake your head.  Then just like the watchword, it’s over.  No questions asked...” He levelled her a serious look, “Does that work for you?”

“Yes, Ser.”

“Good… Now why don’t you be a good girl and get undressed for me?”  

“Yes.” She began to swiftly climb back off his lap, and he grabbed her by the collar of her top.

“Slowly.”

She whined, but did as she was told, continuing at a more leisurely pace. She had waited so long to see him and now that she was here, her whole body was on edge.  She was certain that once he started touching her—truly touching her—she would be coming in an instant, and no threat or punishment would be enough to stop her.  Of course, the Iron Bull knew this and found it entertaining.  He looked on with pleasure as she fumbled with her clothes, her hands trembling with anticipation.

“Turn around,” he reminded her when she reached her belt.  

She smiled to herself... _he likes this part._ She thought of her first visit to the Pen.  How he turned her around and pulled down her smallclothes inch by inch.  She could remember looking back to see if he enjoyed the view… and he did.  She felt so foolish then.  She wanted so much more from the Iron Bull than he could ever give a client.  But looking back now… was she such a fool?  Or had he felt the same all along?

She finished unfastening her boots and stepped out of the puddle of clothes on the floor.  Behind her, the Iron Bull reached between her legs.  He gently stroked along the seam of her lips and gave a satisfied hum.

“You’re always so wet, Inquisitor.”

“Yes, Iron Bull.”  She stayed bent over in hope that he would touch her again, but he instead stood her up and pulled her back between his legs.  His arms surrounded her, hands coming together then separating to reveal a length of red-stained rope.  He nestled it under her breasts, wrapped it around her back and pulled it taut against her skin.  

“Let me know if it’s too tight,” he said into her ear.  She nodded.

He worked the rope, guiding it over her shoulders and around her breasts.  He bound her forearms to her side and crossed her hands behind her back, wrapping her wrists together.  It always amazed her how smooth and effortlessly he could bind her.  A lesser lover may have tangled the rope, pulled it too tight or forget the knot he was trying to tie, but not the Iron Bull.  Every move had purpose; every brush of her skin teasing and enticing.  By the time he was through, she was practically hypnotized.

“How does that feel?”

“Restrictive…”  She twisted in her bondage, trying to find a weak point, but there was none.  Her arms rested comfortably behind her back, completely immobile, “But good.”

“That’s the idea…”

He took hold of the harness and used it to guide her to the bed.  They reached the edge, and over the top of the mattress she saw an odd, tubular pillow.  He lifted her up and placed her astride it.  When he let go, she immediately fell on her face.

“Poor little girl,” he said with a laugh.  He traced his hand over her bottom, then let it down with a loud smack, “At least I have a nice view...”

He walked away, leaving her feeling even more exposed and vulnerable than usual.  She couldn’t move—could hardly even raise up her head.  All she could do was widen her legs and lower herself further onto the pillow.  At least then she could apply some pressure to the maddening ache between her legs.  She grinded against it until the Iron Bull returned.  He chuckled and slapped her bottom with a heavy hand.

“Naughty girl… You’re getting my pillow all wet.”

She whined in response, then felt the warmth of his body as he leaned over her, pulling her head back by the jaw.

“So… you did your punishment?  Every day like I told you?”

“Yes, Ser.”

“You’re desperate enough, I almost believe you.”

“I’m telling the truth!”

“I see the news, Inquisitor.  I know where you’ve been.  I know what you’ve done.  Are you telling me that you took that big toy with you to Emprise du Lion and fucked it every night?  In a tent?  In the snow?”

“Yes.” she growled impatiently.  The Iron Bull grunted against her neck.

“Fuck… that’s hot… So with all that work, I bet that toy just slides right in.”

“Yes, Ser.”

“Very good.”

He took his hand off her throat and stood up behind her.  She felt his fingers trace down the curve of her bottom to her lips that were still pressing into the cushion. She let out a sigh as he dipped between her folds, letting his fingers soak in her wetness, before he placed two digits at her opening.  She buried her face in the pillow and moaned as he pushed both in with little resistance.

“Ok… I believe you…”  He crooked his fingers forwards and she clenched down on them hard, “Fuck… Good girl...”

“Mm-hmm…” She rocked back as much as she could as he lazily pumped in and out.

“Ready for your reward?”

“Yes, yes, yes, please, Ser.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

He pulled his fingers out, wiping them on her thigh before leaning over her to adjust some of the rope on her back.  He stood up and she heard the hollow sound of rope against metal.  Her harness tightened around her chest as and she was slowly raised to a seated position with her bottom hanging off the back of the pillow.  From behind her, the Iron Bull’s arm came around holding the large, white back massager they had used in their second session.  She whimpered.

“Don’t worry, little girl.  This time you’ll be in control… Well, sort of.”  He turned it on and pushed it between her and the pillow, “Tell me when it’s in a good spot.”

She shifted on it, still wary from the last time, but sitting on top of it was different.  With a shift of her hips she could pull away or push in….

“Fuck… Right there…”

“Good girl…” He stood behind her as she rocked on the vibrator, placing his hands on her chest, pulling at and twisting her nipples.  She panted and sighed, already close to her first orgasm in so long…  Bull pulled her head back and nibbled at her ear,

“Come for me, Inquisitor.”

At his command, she did.  She pushed herself deep onto the vibrating wand, clenching her legs around the pillow to ensure it stayed in place. She twitched and squeaked, listening to the Iron Bull’s low laugh in her ear.  

After what felt like an eternity, she reached the end of her climax.  The vibrator still sat against her clit, now aching and oversensitive.  She sighed in relief as the Iron Bull reached around and took hold of it, but instead of removing it, he turned it up.

She cried out and the Iron Bull put his hand over her mouth, “Another.”

“I can’t!” she whined when he released her face.

“Then I’ll help.”

He adjusted the rope and lowered her slightly, so her bottom stuck out and her front pressed even harder into the wand.  Bull thrust two fingers inside her again, pressing forwards towards her most sensitive spot.  His fingers felt amazing, but the heavy vibration was bordering on painful.  She tried to push herself further back onto him, but it only pushed her deeper onto the wand.  She cursed and squealed, half way between agony and ecstasy; the Iron Bull increased his pace.

“Come on, Inquisitor.  Be a good little bitch and come for me.” He slapped her ass, causing her to slide forward on the vibrator.  That was enough to push her over the edge again.  She clenched around his fingers as she succumbed to another heavy orgasm.

“Good girl…” He pulled the wand out from between her legs and she sighed in relief.

“Thank the Maker…”

The Iron Bull laughed and loosened the tension on the rope holding her up.  She fell forward onto the pillow, then rolled off to the side.  The Iron Bull stood at the end of the bed, wand still in hand, looking at her with his wicked smirk.

“It’s cute how you think you’re done.”

“What?”

He put his knee on the bed and used it to kick out her left leg so she couldn’t cover herself, then placed the wand back on her clit and shoved his fingers inside her.

“Another.”

“Fuck!  Fuck!  No, no, no, no, no!  I can’t!” She strained against her harness and tried to close her legs, but it was no use.  He pressed in the wand hard and thrust into her at full force.

“You remember your watchword, little girl?”

“Y-yes—” She could hardly speak, it was all so intense.

“Do you want to use it?”

“No!”

“Good girl…” He pulled out his two fingers and added a third.  All Malika could do was curse and whine as he fucked her with his fingers, still pushing upwards towards that one maddening spot inside her.

“Come for me, Inquisitor.  Come again, and again… until you lose count, until you can’t even think…”

She was already getting there.  She tensed up, then bore down and felt a rush of fluid flowing out of her.  The Iron Bull laughed again, that same slow, evil laugh as he continued to finger her.

“Good girl… Good girl.  Keep it up.  I’m gonna learn every twitch… every squeeze… and every moan when you come.  You’ll never be able to fake it with me.”

“I…” she struggled to make words as she neared release yet again, “I never c-could… anyway.”

She slammed her head back into the sheets as she came again, and finally gave in to the Iron Bull’s orders.  She lost track of how many times she came… she lost track of time itself.  It was as if her mind had detached from her body that was still writhing, twitching and squirting over his hand.  It continued until her body finally went limp.  She had no more left to give.

“Good girl,” she heard distantly, “Very, very good girl.”  The Iron Bull gently turned her on her side and untied her harness, and when he was through, he sat behind her on the bed and pulled her into his lap.  She let herself relax completely, content to be cradled by his massive bulk.  Her trial was over, and this was her reward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang on Tumblr!  
> [Writing/Art Blog](http://ladysummerisle.tumblr.com/), [Fandom/Personal Blog.](http://malikafuckingcadash.tumblr.com/)


	18. More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone,  
> Thanks for being so patient waiting for this new chapter! This is a short one, but there are more on the way! In other news, it seems as if someone I like very much has disappeared from this site completely :( If you're reading this, just know I'd love to hear from you and you will be missed.

Malika sat in the Iron Bull’s arms, exhausted and thoroughly spent.  Her head was swimming, her muscles ached, and between her legs she could feel just how rough she had been played with.  It wasn’t at all an unpleasant feeling, though.  Cradled in the Iron Bull’s arms, she felt warm and comfortable. She felt cared for.

“You hurt anywhere?” the Iron Bull asked as he lifted one of her arms up to his eye, “That rope didn’t burn you anywhere, did it?”

“I don’t think so…”

He repeated the process with her other arm, then pushed her forward to check her back.

“That’s good… How ‘bout everything else?  Was I too rough with you?”

She sighed happily and leaned back against him, stretching up to elicit a kiss on the top of her head.

“You were perfect…” she said thoughtfully, “I just…”  She paused, unsure how to say what she wanted to say.

The Iron Bull combed his fingers through her hair, “Just what?”

“I just wish… I could do for you what you do for me.”

For a long moment, he said nothing, just continued to stroke her hair, but then he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it.

“You do plenty, Malika.”

She breathed out and melted into the sound of her own name.  This familiarity—this intimacy—she shared with the Iron Bull felt like such a luxury.  He said she did plenty, but she honestly didn’t think she could ever do enough.  Not enough to show him how much this… how much _he_ meant to her.  The least she could do was please him, but she never had the chance.  He had found release _with_ her before, but it was never _from_ her.  To be the one to give him pleasure was what she wanted more than anything—to build him up until he came undone and know it was her doing… That’s what she wanted most of all.

She turned around to kneel on his lap and took his face in her hand.  She paused for a moment, once again marvelling at the sheer size of him before bringing her lips to his.  She ran her marked hand up the back of his neck and he growled into her mouth. 

“I want to do more…  _ Ser.” _

The Iron Bull looked her over hungrily before he put his arm around her and swung his legs off the side of the bed.  He dropped her between his legs and she looked up at him, biting her lip coyly.  She brought her hand to his belt and slowly began to undo it.  It seemed silly that he was still fully clothed after the intense session they just had, but still she enjoyed the anticipation as she slowly undressed him.  Once the belt was undone, she began to see the outline of his shaft pressing against the fabric of his trousers.  She teased him through the cloth, rubbing her face against it and opening her mouth around the outline of it.  The Iron Bull grunted and twitched his hips into her face,

“Come on, Inquisitor, you gonna suck that cock or not?”

“Yes, Ser.”  She reached for his waistband and undid the buttons one by one until they sagged at the sides, exposing him completely.  The Iron Bull took her hair in one hand and held his cock at the base with the other, tilting it forward towards her mouth.

“You want that, little girl?”

“Yes, Ser!  Yes, please!”  She tried to bring her head closer, but the Iron Bull had a tight grip on her hair.

“You want to be my little slut, Inquisitor?”

“Yes!  Yes, please, Ser!”

He loosened his grip on her hair, allowing her to come close enough to just lick the tip before harshly pulling her back again.

“Beg me for it.”

“Please, Iron Bull!  Please let me suck your cock!”

He laughed his low, slow, gorgeous laugh, “Good girl.”

He pulled her head in and she opened her mouth wide, letting him shove the tip past her lips.  Slowly he guided her head back and forth, letting himself slide all the way out before reinserting himself deep enough to make her gag and cough.  Saliva dripped down her chin and out of the corners of her mouth, slicking his shaft.  She reached up to stroke it with her unmarked hand, causing the Iron Bull to groan and let go of her head.  He leaned back and let his hips rock into her face as she continued to suck and stroke his massive length.  

From her perspective, Malika had a glorious view.  In front of her, the Iron Bull’s chest and abdomen expanded and contracted, his hands gripped at the sheets and his mouth twisted into a snarl.  She placed her marked hand at the crease of his thigh and he shot up, breathing heavily.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He reflexively went to move her hand, but she swatted him away.  If he really didn’t like it, he could stop her, but she had the feeling he would let it stay.  She slid her hand down his inner thigh then up the bottom of his sack.  He twitched in her mouth and let out a growl.  If she wasn’t so full of him, she would have smiled, but as it was she simply licked and sucked faster and harder as his hips continued to grind upward into her mouth.  Finally, she grasped the underside of his cock with her marked hand.  He cursed and wrapped his own hand around hers, now guiding it up and down himself.  He took her by the hair again and held her still as he thrust into her mouth, finally pulling her off the end as he came, splashing her face and tongue with his seed.

He panted heavily as he finished, and after penetrating her mouth a few last times, he leaned forward with one hand on her shoulder and the other clutching his face.

“Fuck…  _ fuck…  _ I just came on the Inquisitor’s face…” 

Malika giggled and smiled up at him, her face still indeed covered with his spend.

“You gonna brag about it to the guys down at the tavern?”

He exhaled heavily and wiped her cheek with his thumb, “I wish, Kadan.”

His body seemed to stiffen as he looked away for a moment. When he turned his gaze back to her, he smiled warmly and lifted her into a deep, sticky kiss.

“Come on, let’s get cleaned up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr!  
> [Writing/Art Blog](http://ladysummerisle.tumblr.com/), [Fandom/Personal Blog.](http://malikafuckingcadash.tumblr.com/)


	19. The Hissing Wastes

Malika stared out the window as her van moved through the countryside towards the Hissing Wastes.  Leaving Val Royeaux was harder this time than it had ever been before.  She knew she’d be gone for a number of weeks and communication would be difficult.  Deep in the heart of the desert with little privacy and even less cell phone reception, it would likely be a good long while until she heard the Iron Bull’s voice again.  Still, she couldn’t bring herself to be entirely morose about the situation.  As she watched trees and grassy hillsides pass her window, she smiled to herself, remembering the previous night.

“You are in a mood today, Inquisitor.”

Malika shook herself out of her daydream to see Cassandra eyeing her with curiosity.  Her mind had been back at the Pen, remembering the look on the Iron Bull’s face as she brought him to climax and the taste of him on her tongue.  Afterwards, he led her to the largest bathtub she had ever seen and they washed up together, soaking in a mix of hot water and scented oil.  Relaxing in the warmth against his slick body might have been the most content she’d ever been.

“Oh?” 

“You have been looking out that window, grinning, for an hour now,” said Cassandra, “ I must wonder, what has changed to put you in such a good mood?  I didn’t think you were too keen on another mission so soon after we returned to Skyhold.”

“I…”  _ shit,  _ she had started talking before deciding what to say.  She glanced at Dorian for support, but he simply raised his eyebrows and shrugged, “I visited a friend last night… I just… it was a nice change… from the Inquisition and everything…”

“A  _ friend?” _

“Yes, um… That mission you missed on the Storm Coast.  The leader of the mercenary company that helped us…”

“The big one with the horns?” chimed in Sera, “That Iron Bull or whatever?”

“Yeah...”

“Heh… he makes me wonder about… things,” she said with a smile, “I mean, what do their women look like…?  Woof.”

“Really?” Cassandra ignored Sera’s musings about Qunari women, “A Qunari mercenary?  I can’t imagine you have much in common.”

“Well, technically he’s not Qunari anymore; he’s Tal-Vashoth.  That business on the Storm Coast didn’t make the Qunari too happy with him.”

“Yes, I have heard.  Such an alliance would have been powerful, but it seems you are pleased with this outcome.”

Malika nodded, “It’s for the best.  From what I’ve learned about the Qunari…  Well, a culture that keeps its people in line through brainwashing and torture can take our alliance and shove it.”

“Your friend, though, how is he taking it?  Even with its problems, leaving that all behind could not have been easy.”

“He’s taking it… well, I guess?  I’m not sure, actually… We don’t really talk about it much.”

Dorian snorted in the back seat and Malika glared at him.

“What  _ do  _ you talk about?” asked Cassandra.  

“Do those hills over there look like an arse to you lot?” asked Sera, squinting out the window.

“Which ones?” Malika shifted towards her.  She was again indebted to Sera’s gift of good timing.

After several more hours in the cramped van, the team arrived at the edge of the hissing wastes, where an Inquisition patrol met them.  Their van wouldn’t be enough to get them across the sands to the camp, so they had to switch to a different vehicle.  One of the officers also spoke with a news van that had been following them. Without appropriate transportation, all that waited for them in the wastes was death.  After a stern talk, they reluctantly agreed to turn back.

The wastes were unlike any place Malika had been before.  She had seen deserts, but never one so vast and rich.  It was as if the place was at the same time dead and alive.  Days in the Hissing Wastes were so incredibly hot that the team decided to rest while the sun was out and campaign by night, and it seemed as if the wildlife shared the same idea.  What was a wasteland by day, at night was teeming with life, and on the third night of their journey, they spotted the rarest and most exciting creature of them all: a high dragon.

Time seemed to stop as it passed overhead. It was as large as a ship and decorated with beautiful markings on its neck and wings.  The team watched as it soared overhead then down into a rocky gully.  With curiosity, they pursued it to where it had landed and looked in on it from behind a rock formation.  Steep cliffs surrounded it, and at the bottom it sat resting in its nest.

_ If only the Iron Bull were here…  _ thought Malika, then an idea popped into her head.

“Dorian,” she whispered, taking out her phone, “Take a picture with me.”

She gestured for him to come over, and after adjusting his hair, he did.  They turned the phone around and both got into the frame, being sure to capture the magnificent beast behind them, thankful that the moon was bright enough to make it visible in the picture.  She snapped the shot and hummed happily as she looked at it.

“We look good.” she said to Dorian.

“Naturally.”

The team sneaked off and continued onward towards the next camp.  As they walked, Malika’s eyes were ever on her phone, waiting for a location with any signal whatsoever.  It was nearly morning when she found it, and to her relief it was only a short distance from camp.  She opened the picture and sent it out with a text.

_ Look what we found!  _

His answer arrived quicker than she expected, and her heart raced in excitement with her first message from him in days.

_ Look at that!  That is magnificent!  Fuck, I wish I was there.  Did you fight it?? _

_ Not yet,  _ she wrote back,  _ I wish you were here, too. _

Maker, if only the Iron Bull  _ were _ there.  She had only fought with him during the one mission, but it had been glorious.  She felt a lump rise in her stomach… If only things were simple…  She had a fleeting fantasy of what life might have been like had they met under different circumstances; if he had perhaps remained a mercenary instead of opening a dungeon and joined the Inquisition that way.  Her heart hurt as she thought about it.  A life with him out in the open.  No more hiding, no more secrets.  She wanted to write him back and tell him to come out, explore the wastes with her, hunt the dragon… but there was no way.  She hadn’t traveled undercover, and as soon as a news crew caught a picture of him it would be over…  _ someone  _ would recognize him...

Except…  _ wait a minute…  _ The news crew… They had been turned back.  And even if they returned with a more appropriate vehicle, she was the Inquisitor.  Surely she could command Cullen’s forces to tighten up security on the area.  Tell them it’s too dangerous.  Tell them there was too much Venatori or…  _ Maker,  _ what was she thinking?  She couldn’t actually be entertaining this idea… It was risky and irresponsible—Leliana would be furious, and—In the distance the dragon took to the sky again.  It soared up, then skimmed the horizon breathing fire down upon unseen prey.   It truly was magnificent.  She took a deep breath, looked at her phone, then asked the Maker to forgive her.

_ So…  _ she texted him,  _ how much do you really wish you were here? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr!  
> [Writing/Art Blog](http://ladysummerisle.tumblr.com/), [Fandom/Personal Blog.](http://malikafuckingcadash.tumblr.com/)


	20. The Dragon Hunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey readers!
> 
> Long time, no update! 
> 
> Lots has been going on in my life, so if you want to know why it's taken so long, there's a short novel about it [here](http://ladysummerisle.tumblr.com/post/156637649189/hey-everyone-thank-you-all-so-much-for-your).
> 
> I also released a small snippet of fluff around Valentine's Day that you can read [here!](http://ladysummerisle.tumblr.com/post/154738991809/a-holiday-gift)
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the new chapter!

Malika woke in the dry heat of the late afternoon.  It had been two nights since she had invited the Iron Bull to the Hissing Wastes.  This was the evening he was expected to arrive, and sure enough, Malika could already hear the distant sounds of a vehicle traveling across the desert.  She bolted out of her bedroll to get dressed, a task she looked forward to in weather like this.  She wore her same skintight leather trousers and boots, but when out of combat she would tie her shirt up beneath her breasts and let her midsection air out.  It often caught the eye of her soldiers who would sometimes blush or giggle about it, but most took it in stride.  The Herald of Andraste had never been known for her modesty.

She had been coaching herself for days on how to act when the Iron Bull arrived.   _ Be cool…  _ She reminded herself,  _ don’t stare…  _ but also,  _ don’t act too cool  _ and  _ don’t avoid eye contact.   _ She knew her best laid plans would easily go out the window when he actually arrived, but she had to hope she could maintain some measure of decorum.  

She stepped out off her tent and gazed across the distance to see the car driving ever closer, displacing sand in a tan cloud in its wake.  Nearby, Sera crawled clumsily out of her tent.

“I don’t like the mornings…” she grumbled, dusting sand off of herself, “Or afternoons or whatever.  Too hot to move, and all this bloody sand—is that your friend out there?”

“I hope so.”

“How’s he even fitting in there?”

Malika chuckled, “Good question.”  She hadn’t thought of it at first, but the Inquisition’s off-road vehicles were not particularly spacious, and he’d surely been traveling in it for at least an hour.

“Is he almost here, Inquisitor?” Cassandra asked from a camp chair near the extinguished fire pit, “I look forward to meeting him.”

“Yeah...”  Her stomach churned and she took a deep breath.  She could do this…  _ just act natural. _

The vehicle pulled around the campsite and parked.  The driver stepped out to open the back door where the Iron Bull was taking up the entire back seat.  She bit her lip to stifle a giggle as he awkwardly scooted out of the car.

“The Iron Bull,” she said with a smile, “welcome to the Hissing Wastes.”

He hoisted himself out of the car and stretched.

“Inquisitor…” He looked down at her, eyes quickly flitting down to her midsection and back, “Happy to be here.”

They stared at each other silently for a moment and Malika panicked.  Instead of letting the awkward silence win, she said the first thing that came to mind.

“You were really crammed into that backseat weren’t you?”

The Iron Bull gave her a funny look and chuckled, “I was stuffed in there tighter than you are in those breeches.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened… And she laughed… and he laughed.  She ran to him and punched him in the side.

“How dare you!  I am the Inquisitor!”

He ruffled her hair, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Boss.  Now what’s a guy gotta do to get a drink around here?”

She turned to lead him further into the camp, but found Cassandra in her way.  She eyed them with thoughtful suspicion, although Malika didn’t think much of it.  She always looked like that.

“Iron Bull,” she said, extending her hand, “It is good to finally meet you.  The Inquisitor speaks very highly of you.”

His smile widened and he shook her hand firmly.

“Seeker Pentaghast!  Is it true you saved the last Divine from a dragon assault?”

Cassandra sighed; this was a common question.

“Yes… in my youth… with help.”

“Nice!”

“You're not going to press for the details?”

“Nah, I can see you don't want to talk about it.  Besides, if the boss isn't yanking my chain, I think I'll be seeing your skills before the day is out… well… night.  You know.”

Cassandra chuckled.  By that point, Dorian was exiting his tent looking far more put together than he had any right to be, so Malika pushed the group towards the operations table to plan.

The planning was more pleasant than usual.  The Iron Bull chatted and joked, mostly with Sera who was taking the opportunity to ask him as many inappropriate questions as she could about Qunari women.  Dorian rolled his eyes and laughed under his breath.  Cassandra seemed genuinely amused.  When night fell, they set out on foot towards the dragon’s nest. 

The desert nights were cold and windy.  The Inquisition team bundled up against it, but it seemed the Iron Bull was more intent on showing his chest than keeping warm.  Malika couldn’t complain.  He struck an impressive visage in the desert moonlight with his harness and massive battleaxe.  When she asked him if he’d be ok with no coat, he laughed it off,

“Sure it’s cold…” he said, “But at least it’s a dry cold.”

It was that same humor that kept the journey light and fun.  Just like at the Storm Coast, Malika was amazed at how seamlessly the Iron Bull fit with the group. It was if he had always been there… as if he belonged there.  Of course, some things came as a surprise to him.  This was his first time out in the field on the Inquisition’s terms, and his first time with Cassandra.  When in the field, she always took time to work on Malika’s religious training, so in between the off-color jokes and entertaining anecdotes, Cassandra would prompt her with verses from the Chant of Light that Malika would eagerly recite.

“I didn’t realize I was coming along for Chantry Camp,” said the Iron Bull quietly to Malika after a particularly long verse. 

“Oh?” she said, slowing her pace to allow the rest of the group to get farther ahead, “This  _ is  _ the Inquisition… I  _ am  _ the Inquisitor.”

“Yeah, I know… I just… Never really thought of you as the religious type.  A fighter for order and justice, sure, but this Chantry stuff…”

She stopped, “I’m the Herald of Andraste, Bull.  That’s not a title I take lightly.  The Maker chose me, and so I serve as best I can.”

“And your Maker,” he said, kneeling down to her level, “He doesn’t have a problem with… you know...?”

Malika chuckled, and made sure her companions were facing the other way before taking the Iron Bull’s hand.  No matter how many times she held it, she was still amazed at it’s size.  She ran her thumb across the back, then brought it to her mouth to kiss it.

“The Maker knows that worship comes naturally to me… and he’s not the jealous type.  Besides,” she said with a knowing smirk, “I don’t think the Maker cares if the Inquisitor’s a naughty girl who needs a spanking.”

The Iron Bull looked her over with a gaze of unmistakable lust, and for the first time she felt there was actually some sexual power she could wield over him.  To her right, the night sky lit up and a screeching filled the air.  She turned her head to see the dragon in the distance.  It breathed fire on the ground, lighting the purple horizon with orange and gold, before ducking down into the pit where they first saw it.

“Today is a good day!” exclaimed the Iron Bull, “Today is a  _ very  _ good day!”

They approached the chasm and peered over the edge, seeing that the dragon was again resting.  This was good news.  Malika quietly delegated positions.  The Iron Bull and Cassandra were to quietly approach on the ground level, while Sera and Dorian stayed safe at range.  Malika found a rock formation that would give her a good launching point for a backstab to start the fight.  Her companions took their places, and she climbed to her position.  Looking down at the dragon, she could see a bare spot on it’s back that the wings did not cover.  She watched as the patch expanded and contracted with breath, drawing attention to rib bones beneath the flesh, and more importantly, the gaps between them.  She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, knowing this first blow would set the pace for the whole fight.  When she was ready, she jumped.

Her dagger hit its mark and blood spewed from the wound.  The beast woke from its nap and reared its head back with a roar only to find Cassandra and Bull ready to take out its legs.  The dragon put out a valiant effort.  Most men or beasts would have fallen to that first expert blow, but this dragon fought to the bitter end.  It fought through the Iron Bull’s strikes with his greataxe, through Dorian’s chilling magic and Sera’s precise arrows, but soon enough it began to falter.  With a glance into the dragon’s eyes, she could tell it was fading.  It had the slow, glossy-eyed look of a beast who had lost too much blood and fought too long.  She prepared for her finishing move—a jump to the back and a blow to the neck.  The same move she had used to finish the last dragon, but she hesitated.  In the last split second, she glanced towards the Iron Bull and the bloodlust in his eyes woke something within her.  She’d had her glory with that first dragon, now she wanted to gift it to him.

She used her final burst of energy not to jump to the dragon’s back, but to the Iron Bull’s.

“Strike,” she whispered heavily into his ear, and he did.  His greataxe hit the beast’s neck, nearly severing it from it’s body.  Malika jumped back to observe the glorious scene.  Blood splashed across his chest, shoulders and back as the Dragon wavered from side to side, finally falling to the ground.  The Iron Bull threw his axe down and roared in victory, pounding his chest that was now dripping with blood.  He turned to Malika who was watching with ever increasing arousal.  Somehow covered in blood with his dark eye narrowed on her was the most attractive he had ever been.

He walked towards her with animalistic intent as she looked on, eyes wide and mouth agape.  Had he tried to take her right then and there, she wouldn’t have stopped him… but he stopped himself.  He breathed heavily and clenched his fist, never taking his eye off of her.  Behind him, cheers of victory had given way to content chatting as her companions prepared to search the dragon, but for the longest moment Malika and the Iron Bull simply stared into each other’s eyes.  

Finally the Iron Bull spoke, “I have to…” he said shakily, “Um… Give me a minute.”

Malika nodded and watched as he left towards the place he had discarded his pack.  He took out a water bottle and splashed his face and chest, rinsing away the blood from the dragon.

Realizing she wasn’t doing a great job of being discreet, Malika turned towards her companions who were about to cut the dragon open.  Despite the desolate surroundings, the dragon had swallowed no shortage of treasure.  Dorian cleaned each item magically as they sorted through the loot.

“Some good stuff here, Iron Bull!” Sera called to him, “Wanna take a look?”

“No…” said Bull, still facing away at the edge of the battlefield, “No, I’m ok… just don’t forget to grab some of those teeth.  Those are useful.”

 

The journey back was easy and relaxing, but the Iron Bull was acting different.  He was more quiet and the whole way back, Malika could feel his eye on her.  It was the same feeling she had when she was at the Pen.  His presence overwhelmed her.

After a short supper when they reached camp, the exhausted team went early to bed.  Malika and the Iron Bull stayed at the campfire for a while longer, but when there was nothing to say, he went to his tent, too.

Malika looked around to see if any soldiers were watching, and when she was sure they weren’t, she nervously went to the Iron Bull’s tent.

“Malika…” he whispered as she pushed apart the entrance flaps.  He sat up and she could see the silhouette of his horns against the canvas of the tent.  She said nothing, not wanting to alert the others to her location, and instead did what she had wanted to do since she saw him take down that dragon.  She began to undress.  She did it by the book, the way she had been taught.  Piece by piece her clothes were discarded until finally she stood completely naked, nothing touching her body except for the green glow of the mark.  When she finished, she fell to her knees and bowed her head to the ground, awaiting his whim.

She heard him moving, the rustle of fabric and the clink of a bottle.  She could feel him move towards her, then felt the warmth of his hand on her cheek.  He guided her up, and before her she saw what she had been waiting for.  His cock, massive and hard, so erect that the tip brushed against his abdomen.  He guided her to his lap, then took her in his arms.  One hand held her steady while the other, already slicked with oil, plunged into her.  She sighed, and he brought her lips to his to muffle her cries.  She yielded her mouth to him as he continued to slide his fingers in and out, eventually adding a third.  Somehow after the fight, his scent had become even more intoxicating.  She felt like she was melting into his body.  Before she knew it, he took her away from his lips and slid her down, positioning himself at her entrance.  Her heart raced and she looked at him with wide, wanton eyes.  This was it.  The culmination of the fantasy she had carried since she was a girl visiting Kirkwall.  A fierce, rugged Qunari would now claim her for his own… but in this moment, it wasn’t just a  _ Qunari  _ she saw.  This wasn’t a shallow masturbatory fantasy, this was the Iron Bull.   _ Her  _ Iron Bull.  A memory came back to her… her leaning drunkenly on the Iron Bull in that tavern so long ago...

_ “So you’ve never made love?” she had said, “Connected with someone in both body and soul?”  _

The Iron Bull pushed into her, finding resistance.  He spoke softly,

“Relax, Kadan… This part is the hardest.”

She closed her eyes, willed her body to relax and then… He was in.  It hurt at first, but the Iron Bull had trained her well.  She breathed deeply, taking in his scent as he thrust fully into her, finally hitting the back.  The sensation was beyond words, although there was some pain, it was completely overshadowed by the pleasure of the fullness inside her.  She let herself go limp against him, joyful to give him complete control of her body, inside and out.

“Please…” she whispered, “Please fuck me.”

The Iron Bull laughed slowly and quietly… Then did as he was told.  He held her bottom with his massive hands and guided her up and down.  Given his size, he didn’t need to maneuver in any special way to hit all the right spots.  He hit everywhere at once—every place she wanted to be touched was touched.  He changed his posture and balanced her on his chest so he could take her head in his hands.  He tilted her face up and looked into her eyes.

“Who do you belong to, Inquisitor?” he asked quietly.

“You, ser.” she whispered, staring dreamily at his face. 

He took her hair in his hand and tilted her head back further.  The sudden jolt was enough to awaken her body.  Suddenly she felt herself on edge, nearing her climax.

“ _ Who,”  _ he repeated in a whisper, “Do you belong to?”

“I… hah…” It was hard to talk with him ever increasing his pace inside her, but finally she settled on an answer, “You, Iron Bull… I belong to you.”

He grunted and buried her face back in his chest as he continued to thrust inside her.  His breathing became heavy, then erratic and then… He finished.  It was so hard, so intense, she swore she could feel it as he came, and as he made his final movements inside her, she finished, too.

He fell back onto his bedroll and rolled her off to the side.  At first she was disappointed that he didn’t want to hold her, but he turned to her and parted her legs, letting two fingers slide inside her.  He pulled them out and put them to her lips.

“Taste this…” he said, “Taste us.”

She opened her mouth and lapped at his fingers, tasting the heady combination of their fluids.  He lowered his head and kissed her deeply, letting the taste of their lovemaking swill between their mouths… Then he fell to the side and pulled her to him...

“I wish we could always be like this…” She said after a long, comfortable silence.

“In a tent?”

She huffed out a laugh, “No…you know… together like this.” Fighting together, laughing together…  _ living  _ together.  It was a luxury she had never had, even before the Inquisition.  She’d been in love before, but even then it had been largely a secret.  She took the Iron Bull’s giant hand in hers.  What a gift it must be to be normal, she thought.  To be who you’re supposed to be… to love who you’re supposed to love… to live in the open… But she had never been normal.  She never wanted to walk the path that was set for her, and although this idea of “normalcy” would have been easier, she knew she would make all the same choices again if it meant she would end up here in the Iron Bull’s arms.

“How do Qunari show they’re serious about a relationship?” The question came out of her mouth almost unwittingly and she stiffened up, glad that the Iron Bull couldn’t see her face. Sometimes it felt as if someone else was choosing her words for her, and even they weren’t sure exactly what would come out of her mouth.

“They don’t,” he said flatly, “we don’t have sex for love.”

_ Fuck.   _ She knew that.  Of course she knew that.  What a stupid question.  Her traitorous mouth had done it again and now she looked like an idiot.   _ Light and casual…  _ that’s what he had said… That’s how he wanted it… and that’s how she wanted it.  No.  That’s how the Inquisitor wanted it…  What Malika wanted was… different.

“But…” the Iron Bull continued, taking her out of her thoughts, “for someone we really care about, there is this old tradition.  You find a dragon’s tooth, break it in half, and you each wear a piece.  Then, no matter how far apart life takes you, you’re always together...”

_ Don’t forget to grab some of the teeth…  _ the words rang in her memory…  _ those are useful.   _


	21. Halamshiral

Time flew by after the Iron Bull’s visit in the Hissing Wastes, and before she knew it, Malika was en route to the Winter Palace.  The task ahead was intimidating, but she was prepared.  Since her return from the desert, she had worked day and night with Leliana; studying the Grand Game until she found it difficult to answer any question directly.  It would be a relief to finally get the ball over with so she could sound like a normal person again. 

Working so close with Leliana was at times uncomfortable.  She was still irritated about the Iron Bull situation and was not amused by the Inquisitor’s little stunt in the Hissing Wastes.  But she was true to her promise and made sure no word got out about his visit.  

When Malika's mind wasn’t busy with study or war planning, her thoughts continued to flow back to the Iron Bull and their time together in his tent.  Wherever she was, she found herself closing her eyes and fingering the small dragon’s tooth she now carried around in her pocket.  She would think of his scent and his warmth.  His strong arms holding her to him, and of course the feeling of him inside her.  That was the memory she went back to the most, but it wasn’t a normal memory.  It wasn’t a thought, but a feeling, as if her body remembered exactly how it felt—exactly the places he had touched.  She argued with herself whether or not to take her treasured tooth and do with it what he had mentioned.  The Inquisition’s quartermaster was at her disposal… Surely, she could ask him to break it in two for her, and as for wearing it… A simple leather cord would work, but still, she hadn’t yet been able to bring herself to have it done.

Now she sat in a luxurious car on her way to the Winter Palace, phone in hand, doing the one thing that she could count on to calm her nerves these past few weeks.  Exchanging funny pictures and stories with the Iron Bull via text.  She was smiling and blushing as he recounted the embarrassing outcome of a drunken bet with Krem when she felt someone leaning over her shoulder.

“Is that the Iron Bull you’re talking to?” said Sera a little too loudly.

“Huh?!” Malika jumped in her seat and looked around, remembering in relief that it was only her closest companions in the car with her, “Y-yeah.”

Sera snickered, “Should have known… You always get that  _ look _ when you talk to him… makes me wonder.”

“Makes you wonder… what?”

“After you see him…  _ How can you walk?” _

Dorian snorted and Cassandra sat forward in her seat.

“ _ Sera! _ ”

“What?” She sat back in her seat with her arms crossed, “You  _ know _ they’re having it off.”

“What the Inquisitor does in her spare time is none of my concern.  Neither is it yours.  Besides, we must focus on the task at hand.”

Cassandra looked out the window to meditate and Malika sat quietly in shock.  They knew… They absolutely  _ knew,  _ and yet nothing had changed… Nothing at all.

“You and him, though?” Sera said quietly, “You’re in it, right?”

“Well…” said Malika with a cocky smirk, “ _ He’s _ usually the one who’s  _ in it.” _

“Ha!”

 

The night of the ball was long and exhausting.  Malika leaned on the railing of a balcony outside the ballroom, finally enjoying some peace and quiet.  She knew this mission would be tough, but she had no idea how many ways it would test her.  In the end, though, it was worth it.  She was able to reunite Empress Celene with her lover, Briala, and in doing so hopefully bring stability to the empire.  Seeing them together and happy was bittersweet.  Celene was able to stand united with her love in front of her court and, via broadcast, the entire country.  It made Malika wonder if she would ever be afforded such a luxury.

All night she had neglected her phone, but now standing alone on this deserted balcony, her hands were automatically drawn to it.  She opened her text window, but after looking around to make sure she was alone, she decided to call.

“Inquisitor…” the Iron Bull’s voice was soft and deep, “didn’t think I’d hear from you tonight.”

“I didn’t think I’d call, but…” She couldn’t resist.

“I’m glad you did… You look good in that uniform tonight, but I wish I could have seen you in one of those fancy, Orlesian dresses.”

Malika jumped and looked around her as if she might see the Iron Bull standing in the doorway behind her, “How do you know what I’m wearing?”

Bull chuckled, “The whole world knows what you’re wearing.  We always do.”

“The cameras…”

“Yeah… You can hide from them sometimes, but they’re always looking for you.  Can’t say I blame them.”

“Hm… So you like watching me on TV?”

“I like you better in person.”

She paused and looked at the stars, thinking about the Iron Bull alone at the Pen.  In another life, perhaps he could have been with her, hobnobbing with the Orlesian elite.

“I wish you were here,” she sighed, “I wish… I wish we could dance again.”

“I can’t be there…”

“I know—”

“But If you’re serious, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

Her heart skipped a beat.

“What’s that?”

“Well, every year we throw a party. It’s a masquerade just for our most valued clients. Security’s tight and there’s no cameras, plus we’d make sure your disguise was convincing.  I thought… you know… if you’re interested you could... be my date?”

“Yes!  Ah… I mean… If you really think…” she looked around again to make sure her outburst didn’t draw any unwelcome attention, “If you really think we could pull it off.”

“There’s always a risk, Inquisitor, but yeah.  I do.”

Her face was flushed and her stomach fluttered.

“I would like that… I would  _ really  _ like that.”

“Good.”

“Inquisitor,” said someone behind her.  Malika’s shoulders stiffened.

“I have to go.” She hung up promptly and turned around, breathing a sigh of relief that it was just Dorian.

“My, you are a jumpy one tonight… I assume I know who was on the other end of that call?”

“I assume you do.”

Dorian slowly crossed to the railing and leaned next to her.

“It was a brave thing you did today.”

“I was just doing my job.”

“Yes, well, I’m not talking about the mission.”

Malika looked up and cocked her head to the side, “No?”

“I was referring to the car ride over here.  Your exchange with Sera.”

“Oh, that...” Her stomach churned; she was still nervous about her choice.

“I know that trust doesn’t come easily to you, Inquisitor, and it’s understandable why that is.  How many are there who would take your secrets and use them against you?  You must know, though, that you have inspired great loyalty in this Inquisition.  You’ve certainly inspired it in me.”

There was a warm silence between them, and Malika swayed closer to rest her head on his arm.

“Thanks, Dorian… is that all you came here to say?”

“Well, no, not exactly.” He stepped back from the railing and turned to face her, “I thought you could use a distraction, and I have just the thing… let’s dance!”

Malika laughed, “Really?  With me?  I didn’t think I was your type.”

“Well, I daresay I’m not your preferred partner either, but I think we can make do.”

He bowed and held out his hand.  Laughing and shaking her head, Malika took it.

“I would love to.”


	22. Kadan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter and Happy Passover everyone! As you can see, I have risen again to release a new chapter that will hopefully have all of you saying "Dayenu!" Ha. Ha.
> 
> Anyway, jokes aside, thanks for waiting! As luck would have it, today is also my birthday! So if you're feeling so inclined, help me celebrate by leaving a kudos or comment! I cherish every one I get <3
> 
> Enjoy!

The streets of Val Royeaux were dark and empty as Malika's car made its way to The Bull's Pen.  It was a sight she rarely saw.  The shimmering gold of the city squares giving way to darkened side streets with yellow streetlights and illuminated signs.  She was told to come at this hour.  There were more people in the red lantern district this time of year and all eyes were on the Pen; had she come in the daytime she would have surely been noticed.

Her driver let her off in the back parking lot and she knocked on the door expecting Krem to answer, but when it opened she found a leather harness where she had expected his face to be.  Her eyes climbed upwards and she couldn’t help but grin as she saw the Iron Bull’s face for the first time in almost a month.

He walked backwards, letting the door to close behind her before he sunk to his knees.  She walked into him and felt his arms wrap around her.  _ Maker, this feeling…  _ Feeling small and cared for.  Months ago when she first started seeing the Iron Bull, she endured ever-increasing amounts of pain and service to be awarded this privilege, but now it was given to her freely.  This and more.

He lifted her chin and took her mouth slowly and deeply, letting her savor the sense of him.  Sometimes when they were apart she had difficulty imagining him—difficulty believing her sense memory of him was real.  But now she was with him.  She could see him, smell him, taste him, and most importantly feel him.  His hulking body engulfed her in warmth, safety and comfort.

With one last kiss, he rose from the ground and led her to his bedroom; another thing of wonder she would fantasize about when she was away.  The soft golden light hung above the intricate four-poster bed just as she had remembered it, casting a warm glow throughout the room.

Bull sat on the edge of his bed and Malika began her task of undressing, but the Iron Bull wasn’t content to simply watch today.  He pulled her close and assisted her as she removed article after article of clothing, kissing swaths of bare skin as it became available.

“I missed you, Malika,” he said into her neck as she undid the latch on her belt.

“I missed you, too.”

As she slid her trousers down, she was reminded of the treasure she kept in her pocket.  The quartermaster had helped her string the two halves of her dragon’s tooth onto some leather cording.  It was her hope to give him this gift tonight before the chaos the masquerade would inevitably bring.  She figured now was as good a time as ever.

“I have something for you,” she reached for her trousers, but the Iron Bull stopped her.

“Really…” His hand traced her neck until he found a strand of hair that he twirled around his finger, “I think I have something for you, too.” He used the strand to guide her closer, “I’ll go first.”

She bit her lip, expecting him to kiss her again or pull her onto the bed, but to her surprise, he actually reached behind him, procuring a small velvet box tied with a red bow.  She cocked her head to the side, eyeing it curiously.  Was it the same as hers? 

“You gonna open it?”

“Oh… yeah, sorry…”

She pulled at the end of the ribbon, causing the bow to unravel.  After it fell to the floor, the Iron Bull opened the box towards her.  Inside, sitting on a bed of black satin, was a thick strip of leather, beautifully embossed in a similar pattern as the belt the Iron Bull often wore.  It had a metal ring attached to it, and a large silver buckle.

“A mabari collar…” As she said the words, it dawned on her what it was for, “... oh.”

The Iron Bull laughed his low, slow laugh, sending tingles up her spine.  He turned her around and pulled her close.

“It’s for a very special mabari.”

The cold leather brushed against her neck.

“There’s gonna be a lot of people at the masque tomorrow,” he said as he fit the collar around her neck, “They won’t recognize you… but that doesn’t mean they won't want a piece of you.  I want to make sure nobody gets any funny ideas.”

He pulled the collar firmly against her throat.

“You’re mine,” he growled into her ear, “No one touches you without my permission.  Got it, Inquisitor?”

“Yes, Ser.”

“Hm… good girl… we're gonna have a good time tomorrow… then again,” he stroked her head, ending with a sharp tug of her hair, “I'm gonna have a good time with you tonight, too.”

She swooned.  That's what she wanted to hear.  He rose and ordered her to lay at the head of the bed.  She obliged and when she complied she noticed ropes already tied to the headboard.  The Iron Bull walked around and leaned over her to secure her arms.  It was a glorious view, watching up close as his chest bulged and contracted with his movements.  The month without him had been lonely and exhausting, but as she felt the first rope tighten around her wrist, all the tension and frustration seemed to melt away.  She was no longer her own problem; the Iron Bull was in charge.

“You remember your watchword, right?  What do you say if you really want to stop.”

“Katoh,” she replied obediently.  The Iron Bull stopped tying her second wrist.

“Did you mean that?”

“No.”

“Good.”

He finished with her wrists and moved on to her legs.  Malika's stomach clenched.  He had only secured her legs two times before and they had both been exceedingly painful.  This time he tied them to the headboard by the knees, spread out so she was completely exposed.  She shifted in her restraints, her body already trying to close herself off from this vulnerable position even though her mind knew it was futile.

“What are you going to do?”

The Iron Bull laughed, “Oh, you'll see.  Don't worry, I think you'll like it.”

Malika grumbled.  Of course she would like it, didn't mean it would be nice… or easy.

To her surprise, the Iron Bull didn't immediately leave to fetch one of his various impact toys.  Instead he climbed on the bed and bent over her, giving her a quick kiss on the mouth before working his way down.  Once he was between her legs she felt his stubble tickle her thigh, then his mouth kissing up the inside of her leg up to where her knee was bound.  On his return the kisses turned to bites that sent shivers through her body.  The angle of her bound legs made it easier than normal to see what he was doing, and their eyes met for a long while while he continued to bite and suck on the sensitive skin.  She sighed from the deep, pinching pain, but there was also a tickle that stemmed from the source of the bite and traveled all through her body, causing her to squirm and buck her hips.  The Iron Bull’s eye changed to the evil stare he always had when he was satisfied with his handiwork, and he moved onto familiar territory, planting his face between her legs and parting her lips with his tongue.  Before she knew it, he also had two fingers inside her and was working to fit in more.

“Do you remember the last time you were tied up for me like this?”

Like this?  She thought… Ah, legs spread out, not tied to the bed.  It was hard to think as his fingers separated to spread her out more.

“I-I do…”

It had been her second time seeing the Iron Bull. She still fantasized about it… her nerves and expectation as he tied her legs apart, the pain of the slapper followed by the sweet torture of that back massager-turned-vibrator on her sensitive clit.  It was agony.  Her legs struggled against the restraints at the mere thought of it, and yet she craved it.  

“Let's try it again.”

Before she could object, the Iron Bull had the device in his hand.  He flipped the switch on the side and a loud buzzing filled the room. 

Malika instinctively tugged on her restraints and tried to back away.  The Iron Bull laughed.

“And that's why I tied you down first.” He sat next to her, placing the vibrator between her legs, “I love watching you struggle.”

He finally pushed it against her clit and she shrieked as it brushed against the underside, the sharp vibrations too intense for her to handle. 

“Quiet, little girl, it's late… you really want everyone to hear you?”

“I'm sorry!  I—hah!” She tilted her hips so that the vibrator hit a more pleasurable spot, but the Iron Bull followed her every move, making sure to find the most sensitive spots, keeping her in anguish.

“Hmm…” he said, listening to her cries as he alternated direct contact with much needed breaks, “If you can't keep your mouth shut, I'll have to do it for you.”

He set down the vibrator and pulled something out of his pocket.  It was another leather strap but this time at the center was a black rubber ball.  She had to laugh.  Carrying that in his pocket, he knew it would come to this.

“What are you laughing at, little girl?  Open your mouth.”

He pushed the gag past her teeth then swiftly latched it around the back of her head.  When he was through, he looked her over and brought his hand gently to her face.

“You remember what to do if it’s too much, right, Kadan?”

_ That word…  _ He’d said it before, she never thought to ask what it meant.  She nodded, remembering how he told her to shake her head if she couldn’t use her words.

“Good girl.”

With that he reached down and turned on the vibrator again.  Malika screamed, but the gag, sitting uncomfortably against her teeth muffled her cries.  The Iron Bull laughed, his sweet caring gaze now replaced with that devilish grin.  

Just like the time before, the direct contact of the vibrator made her whine and curse, although this time no intelligible sounds were made.  The Iron Bull slid the wand up the underside of her clit and she tensed, desperate to shut her legs.  He occasionally gave her breaks by focusing on the area above her clit that felt so good the last time, but whenever she relaxed, he would lower the wand again, laughing as he saw her pull against her binds. He grinded the vibrator into a particularly sensitive part

“Go ahead… Scream all you want… wear yourself out… you’re gonna need a nice long sleep when I’m finished with you, anyways.”

He continued his assault until finally she went limp in her binds, no longer responding to the vibrations.  Her mind glazed over in a warm haze… she hardly even noticed when he turned it off.

He placed it on the bed and she felt a finger slide inside her.

“Nice and wet…” he said, “But I think we’re gonna need even more.”

“Huh?”

He went to his bedside table, pulled out a bottle of oil, and poured some between her legs, letting it slick her entrance as well as her outer lips.  It was far more than he had used when he fucked her.

He put down the bottle put two fingers in that quickly became three.

“How does that feel?  Too much?”

She sat still, knowing that he would stop if she shook her head.

“Alright.” He picked up the vibrator again, putting it on the lowest setting and resting it on the spot directly above her clit.  Once she was relaxed he moved the wand lower, but not where she was expecting.  He placed it at her entrance, pressing it into her like he was trying to… Her eyes widened and she moaned into her gag.  An evil smirk came to the Iron Bull's face and he laughed his low, slow laugh.

“Relax, Inquisitor… If you don’t you’ll only make it harder.”

The gag stifled her whining as he twisted the wand, slowly edging it deeper.  She could feel the wide, blunt end stretching out the very beginning of her opening, but it felt stuck--her muscles inside were too tight and she was sure there was no way to push past them… still the Iron Bull continued.  She held her breath as he pushed deeper, ready to cry out and shake her head.   She could feel the wand pushing through as the deep vibrations relaxed the surrounding muscles.  There was a moment of pain, and then…

“Mmmm!” It slid into place, pushing up against every side, filling her with intense vibration.  She squealed and writhed, trying to back away, but there was no escaping.  She looked at the Iron Bull with wide, shaken eyes.

“How does that feel, Inquisitor?” He slowly maneuvered the wand inside of her, putting pressure upwards against the spot he knew would make her squirm.  She whined, not knowing how she would answer his question even if she could.  The Iron Bull carefully pulled the wand out, working it past the tight channel of muscles and Malika exhaled a breath of relief before he pushed it back in.  

He worked up a rhythm, slowly pulling it out and pushing it in, listening to her varying wails and cries behind her gag.

“Is it too much, Inquisitor?  Can you handle it.”

_ Yes, it’s too much!  _ She thought, but that wasn’t to say she couldn’t handle it.  Also, she had no choice.  She was bound, incapable of backing away even if she wanted to.  She could shake her head and this would all come to a halt, but she had no intention of doing that.  Although she was close to her breaking point, she wouldn’t give up.  It had been so long since she had been under the Iron Bull’s control.  Seeing his evil smirk as he loomed over her, completely dominant, was worth any amount of discomfort.

“Good girl… good girl…” he said while he repeatedly pulled it all the way out, then pushed it forcefully back in.  Malika bucked and moaned, feeling pressure build up inside her.

“You gonna come for me little girl?”

_ Yes, yes, yes, yes!   _ Her body stiffened up and she bore down, sending a gush of fluid over the wand and the Iron Bull’s hand.  She took in a deep breath, causing a headrush that made her body feel like it was full of stars.  As she recovered, she heard the Iron Bull laughing again.  He had pulled the wand out and was looking at the drips running down the side.

“Looks like someone came…”

If she wasn’t already blushing, she would have started then.  She could feel the wet spot spreading underneath her.  The Iron Bull came close and gently removed the gag.  When it popped out, she stretched and closed her jaw, thankful for having her full range of motion again.

“Sorry about that…” she said, averting her eyes.  It wasn’t the first time she’d had such an explosive orgasm in front of the Iron Bull, but she felt self-conscious about it all the same.

“Fuck… don’t be.  That was awesome.”

She smiled,  biting her lip.

The Iron Bull untied her from her binds, gently and slowly, giving her time to stretch out her arms and legs that had become stiff from the rope.

“Everything good, you’re not hurt anywhere?”

“Well, my insides feel fried…” she said with a laugh, sitting up against the head of the bed, “But I think that was the intention…”

“Ha… Yeah.  Was it too much?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He sat next to her and pulled her onto his lap.  She leaned back, appreciating how his massive chest cradled her head.  This was by far her favorite chair.

“What about you?"  She said, feeling his semi-hard cock resting against her bottom, “You didn’t—”

“Later… We’ve got all night, don’t we?”

She sighed happily at the thought, “Yeah…”

“Besides, you said you had something for me?”

Her heart skipped a beat.  She almost forgot!  She’d been looking forward to--and dreading--this moment for weeks.

“I do…”

She climbed off his lap and went to the end of the bed where she had discarded her trousers.  In the pocket, she found them: the necklaces she made for the Iron Bull and herself.  She took his half in her hand and went back to where he sat on the bed.  She held it out for him and he squinted at it.

“What’s that?”

“A dragon’s tooth,” she said, “split in two.”

His eye widened and he drew his head back.

“So no matter how far apart life takes us, we’re always together.”

He took it gingerly from her hand and inspected it, letting his thumb run over the curve of the tooth.  She sat on her knees in front of him, nervous to hear his response.  She was still worried this gift was a mistake… that she had gone too far, too fast.

“Not often people surprise me, Kadan…”

“Kadan?” that word again…

“Kadan,” he repeated, pulling her onto his lap, “My heart.”

“...Kadan.”

No, it had not been a mistake. 


	23. Masquerade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! It's been a while again, but I'm finally back with a new chapter. Again, a lot has happened since I last posted, most importantly this summer I was given the opportunity to finally meet my beloved beta/editor, Verolynne, face to face! I think she thought it was a long shot when she invited me to her birthday party in Canada, but I couldn't book my ticket fast enough! I hopped on a plane and went to a foreign country to meet strangers from the internet and it's one of the best decisions I've ever made. Vero is one of the most inspiring, intelligent and beautiful people I've ever had the opportunity to meet and I'm thankful every day that the internet exists, AO3 exists, and Dragon Age exists because without those I would never have had the chance to meet her or her amazing husband. I only got to visit for a few short days, but they were honestly some of the best days I've ever had. I literally cried after they dropped me off at the airport because I already missed them so much. So anyway, this chapter... nay, this entire piece, is dedicated to Vero. May we always be together no matter how far apart life takes us.

“Today's gonna be a long one… You ready, Kadan?”

The Iron Bull reached across the breakfast tray balanced between them and brushed a bit of her hair back.  Malika smiled and took a long, content sip of her drink: a hot, sweet beverage the Iron Bull imported from Seheron.  He called it “cocoa.”

“Ready for anything.”

“That’s what I like to hear.  I gotta work today, so you’re gonna be alone for a while, but Dalish’ll be by later help with your costume.”

“My costume… what is it, anyway?”

Bull smirked and let out a solitary chuckle.

“Let's just say there's more than one reason I got you that Mabari collar…”

“Oh!” Her hands instinctively reached for her neck where she was already wearing it along with her dragon's tooth necklace that hung loosely below.

“You'll be vulnerable tonight, so I’m not taking any chances.” He stood up and walked around the bed to where she sat, “I'm keeping you on a short leash, and I mean that… literally.”

He came up behind her and put his finger through the ring on her collar, pulling it tight against her neck, “What do you think, Inquisitor?  Ready to be my little bitch?”

Her heart raced and she exhaled, leaning back to feel his bulk against her.

“Yes, Ser.”

He wrapped his hand around her face and pulled her close.

“Good girl.”  He held onto her for a moment longer and sighed as he let her go.  

“I'm gonna miss you today, Kadan.”

“Yeah…” It seemed silly; he'd only be busy for a few hours and the rest of the night would be theirs, but still she didn't want him to go.  Not even for that long.

    “But when I come back,” he said into her ear, “I won’t let you out of my sight.”

    Bull dressed and left, taking the tray with him, and Malika was left to her thoughts.

     _A mabari_ … She tugged the ring on her collar, trying to mimic what it would feel like to be pulled along by it.  He did say he’d keeping her on a leash.  The idea of him keeping her close and controlled was enough to make her hands wander between her legs, where she was still sore from the last night’s activities.  After she gave the Iron Bull her gift, they made love for the second time.  It was a slower, more intimate session than they’d had in the tent, and by the end of it she felt so stretched that she was sure her insides would never be the same again.  In a way, she hoped they wouldn’t.  The lingering soreness was a constant reminder that what happened between them was truly real and not still a fantasy. If she could choose, she would stay sore long after she returned to Skyhold.

As the time for the ball drew nearer, Dalish arrived with a garment bag and a makeup kit.  She set up a mirror on the Iron Bull's dresser and sat Malika on a chair.

“So, Your Worship, what has the Iron Bull told you about your disguise?” she asked, peering over Malika's shoulder into the mirror.

“Not much—except, well, what it is…” she chuckled, “he said he got me this collar for a reason.”

“So he did, _Messere Mabari_.” Dalish pulled up a chair and continued, “I'll be doing your face, along with some… adjustments.  When I'm through with you, your spymaster would pass you over with ne’er a second glance”

“Is that true?”

“In a way…” She opened her kit, “You're a dwarf, Messere.  I can’t hide that.  You’ll always stand out around here ‘cause you’re different… but I know some old Dalish tricks to make sure people don't look for too long—and don't find anything if they do.”

“Old Dalish tricks?” Magic, surely.

“The oldest!  You ready?”

She nodded.

Dalish dipped her brush into a dark pot and began.  The makeup she used was wet and more like paint than what Malika was used to.  She enjoyed the cold sensation of the brush on her hot skin.  She’d been blushing all day... and Dalish wasn’t helping.  She sat so close she was practically in Malika’s lap and she could feel her breath on her face.  The last time she’d sat with someone like this was when she got tattooed, but the artist hadn’t been nearly as good looking.  She opened her eyes when she had the chance and was amazed at how beautiful she was up close.  Malika traced the green lines of her vallaslin until their eyes met.  Dalish smiled sweetly and bowed her head.  It was a simple act, but in that moment Malika could see why one might employ her as a submissive.

“Almost done…” said Dalish after a time.  She sat back to look over her handiwork, “Just one last touch…”

She waved her hand in front of Malika’s face and an intense tingle spread from her scalp all the way down to her neck.  She brought up her hand in surprise then pulled it away when she remembered her makeup.  Dalish giggled and Malika looked at her hand.  Nothing.  There wasn’t a trace of face paint left behind and the stiff, heaviness of it was gone.  Carefully, she touched her face again… it was just skin.

“What did you do?”

“Old Dalish trick.” She crossed her arms smugly, “That’ll stay put all night… or at least until…” she checked her phone, “a half hour after the party, so don’t lose track of time.”

Dalish sat her back down and started working her hair into two separate braids.  As she worked, Malika could feel warmth coming from her hands, and when she looked into the mirror found that the braids were longer than her short haircut should have allowed.  Dalish gave her another knowing smile as she wrapped each of them into buns above her ears.  Looking at herself in the mirror, she definitely looked  _different_ … The mask would hide more, but she still felt unsure.

“Do you think this’ll really be enough?” She asked as Dalish secured the last of her hair with a pin.

“I think so, but we're not done yet.  Put this on.” She opened the garment bag and pulled out a plain black bodysuit with a deep v in the front and a tiny tail in the back.  Malika took it tentatively and faced away, nervous to change in front of her.   Dalish laughed.

“I never thought you'd be the modest type, Inquisitor… not with what you wear out in the field.”

She didn't reply, but felt butterflies in her stomach as she began to disrobe.

“I remember watching you on TV… that was before we met you,” Dalish slipped lazily into the chair Malika had vacated, “Bull just loved turning on the news to see what you were wearing each day… or, maybe what you weren't.”

Malika wrapped her arms around her breasts and looked around.

“He did?”

“Oh,  _he did_.  I can still remember him… what did he say?” She cleared her throat and continued in her best Iron Bull voice, “The way she wears that skintight leather… it's like she's fucking  _trying_.”

Malika's arms dropped and she spun around the rest of the way, “He didn't!”

Dalish raised her eyebrows, “Not so modest now, are we, Inquisitor?”

Malika looked down in shock as she remembered she was completely naked.  She turned back and grabbed the bodysuit.

“Bull had—what do the Shems call it?  A 'celebrity crush’?  Then one day you turn up out of the blue, asking for him by name… Krem must've wet himself when he saw you… That boy wants nothing more than to see Bull happy.”

She had stepped into the bodysuit and pulled it over her shoulders. The fit was a little loose around the chest, but she had bigger things on her mind.

“If you ask me,” Dalish continued, “I don't think it was ever strictly business for him.”

“Why… why are you telling me this?”

Dalish stood.

“Since you came here, Inquisitor, everything's changed.  No more Qun--not that we ever minded it, but the Iron Bull, he was never meant for that life, and now… he's free.  And he's  _yours_.  I hope,” she stepped closer, “that you won't take that for granted, Your Worship.”

“ _Never._ ” The word left her lips as an aggressive whisper.  Dalish smiled and brushed her cheek.

“Good girl.  Now,” She took Malika's face in her hand and a chill spread from her fingertips, freezing her neck in place so looking up at Dalish's catlike grin was all she could do, “you didn't hear any of this from _me_ , did you, _da’len_?”

Malika's heart beat fast… she knew the Iron Bull had a gift, but apparently Dalish did, too.

“No, Ser.”

“That's a good girl.” She let go and Malika dropped to her knees.  Dalish looked her up and down, still grinning, “One last adjustment…”

She crouched and waved her hand over Malika's chest, causing the strongest tingle yet and a sudden weight.  Malika looked down and clutched her breasts that were now at least twice their size.

“What was that for?!”

“Your figure will give you away, Inquisitor.  Enjoy those for the evening.”

Dalish packed up quickly and with one last, sly wink walked out the door.

    It wasn’t long after she left that Krem arrived.  He was a welcome sight in his dashing fox costume.  His mask sat on his forehead, blending into the red of his hair, and swinging between his legs was a foxtail.  

“Bull still has some last minute preparations, Your Worship... He sent me, along with his apologies."  
    He placed a bag on the bed and began to unload it.  In it was a pair of leather mittens with paws sewn in at the end, and a mask the likes of which Malika had never seen. It was like a hound's muzzle, with a strap leading over the middle of the forehead, and one that looped around with small, pointed dog ears.  
    "I hear that's a bit much, so I'll help you put it on last"  
    "Help me?"  
    "I know you'd rather it was Bull, but..." He held up one of the mittens.  Malika nodded and offered her marked hand.  Krem placed the mitten over it and instructed her to make a fist inside.  The mitten hid her mark completely, but also changed the shape of her hand, furthering the hound-like illusion of her costume.

She enjoyed being alone in the Iron Bull's room with Krem... Things had progressed with the Iron Bull, but if they hadn't... She had always had eyes for Krem... And he... Well, talking to Dalish, she now knew he'd always had ulterior motives as well.  She remembered their first meeting so clearly... The shock on his face, followed by his grin... His offer of other Doms... She thought at the time he’d been teasing... But he hadn't been teasing her.  
    "Thank you," she said, wrapping her hands around his waist. Krem, having just finished lashing her first mitten,, stiffened in surprise.  
    "You're... Er... Welcome?"   
    It was clear here had no idea what caused this sudden display, but she didn't care.  She didn't know how instrumental he'd been in bringing her and the Iron Bull together, but she knew Krem loved him... And now she knew he had always been in her corner.  
    "I promise," said Malika, taking his hand with her free one and realizing she hadn’t thought of what to promise, "I promise I... I won't..." She breathed out and tried to streamline her thoughts, "I'll be good to him."  
    Krem still looked confused but he nodded and squeezed her hand back.  
    "I know, your worship."

 

A combination of nerves and physical restrictions made arriving at the masque a confusing affair.  Krem finished dressing her, then latched a leather lead onto her collar.  Following Krem down the corridor was her first taste of what was to come.  Dalish was right, she wasn’t generally the modest type, but being in this place, wearing a mask and collar, being pulled along she felt more exposed than she would have fighting with no armor at all.  Half of Thedas shared her same body parts, but far fewer shared her desires, and even less would dare attend a party like this.  If tonight were the night… if her mask were ripped off and she was exposed would her followers understand?  And if they didn't… would she be forced to say goodbye?

She shook these thoughts from her mind.  It didn’t matter, and there was no way the Iron Bull would allow her to be unmasked.  Krem led her down a flight of stairs she had never been down before into a dim hallway, crowded with people.  It didn’t take long for her to see the hulking mass that was the Iron Bull.  He turned to the stairway and came as soon as he saw her.

“ _Kadan_ …” he said, making her heart beat faster… people were around, people could hear! “You look…  _fuck_ …”

“I look…?” she mumbled, just now remembering there was a mask over her mouth.

“Hm…” he grinned, “You look  _good_.”

The Iron Bull took her leash from Krem, and before she felt completely ready, a large set of double doors opened and golden light spilled into the hallway.  There were cheers as the Iron Bull led her through the doors, as well as gasps.  At first she thought they were all because of her, but she soon realized that she and the Iron Bull had been followed in by a parade of staff, all in dazzling costumes.  There was Krem in his fox costume of course, and she could also make out Rocky dressed as a boar.  Flanking them was Dalish, who looked ethereal in her white halla costume, and Skinner who wore a cape of smoke-gray and a lupine headdress with several red eyes.  The Iron Bull looked resplendent as well.  He wore an outfit similar in shape to what he always wore, but the colors were white, green and gold.  He was a hunter, an idea he got across by slinging a bow on his back and carrying a small handaxe on his belt.

At the end of their procession was a throne that the Iron Bull sat upon, and next to it, a black pillow with golden tufts.

“Sit.” he said.  Malika kneeled on the pillow and he smiled, patting her head, “Good girl.”

From her vantage point on the floor, it was hard to see what was happening elsewhere at the party, but the sounds told a story all their own.  There was music, of course, flowery Orlesian instrumentals, only with added percussion.  From every corner of the ballroom she could hear slaps, cracks and moans.  She heard laughing, screaming and the clink of chains.  This wasn’t like any ball she’d ever been to before.  She could already feel wetness building between her nether lips and she shifted on her pillow, hoping she could stop it from seeping through her bodysuit.

As she sat, a long stream of masked patrons came to pay their dues, and quite a few showed interest in his new pet.  A curvaceous woman in an opulent swan costume approached and nodded her head slightly, careful not to fully bow.

“The illusive Iron Bull is finally showing his face, I see.” The woman had a thick, Orlesian accent and a familiar voice.

Bull huffed out a laugh, “I’ve been around… My Lady.”

“We— _I_  have heard different.  They say it is impossible to book a session with you—that they are always full.  This is no surprise to us… It is known how popular you are, but what is curious is how none of your appointments have been filled by your regular clients… There are rumors.  People wonder if their dear Bull has retired… or has taken a new… patron.”

She reached down and turned Malika’s face by the muzzle.  Upon seeing her pale, blue eyes behind the mask, Malika knew who this mystery woman was.  Her heart beat fast as Empress Celene examined her.

“Tell me, is this one available tonight?”

The Iron Bull pulled on her leash.

    “No, My Lady.”

    “Pity.”

    “What’s this?” Skinner appeared suddenly behind the empress and held a riding crop to her neck, “Ignoring me to buy time with this common whore?”

    “No, Mistress!” Celene dropped to her knees, “I’m sorry, Mistress!  Forgive me.”

    “We will see how sorry you are when I’m done.”

    Skinner grabbed the back of her dress and pulled her away.  Malika laughed.  Not only had the disguise worked, but she wasn’t the only person here with something to hide.

    As the night progressed, the party grew wilder.  Sounds of pleasure and pain threatened to drown out the chamber music until finally the musicians changed instruments and played a dark, thumping tune.  The Iron Bull led Malika on her leash and she was able to see how corners of the ballroom were equipped with various pieces of dungeon furniture.  Bull chatted with patrons and watched as different scenes played out.  Some were just spanking, but there were other, more impressive ones.  They sat to watch Dalish, who had Stitches suspended from the ceiling by rope and was slowly drawing her finger down his body as he moaned and electricity crackled.  The Iron Bull pulled Malika onto his lap and discretely put his fingers between her legs.  He felt the outside of her bodysuit.

    “Mm… You’re wet,” he whispered.  She nodded.  He pushed aside the fabric and let his finger glide along her slick folds, “Look fun, my pet?”

    Malika nodded meekly.

    “I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?  Being a show… Letting the whole party watch as I tie you down and make you my toy.”

    She shivered… then nodded.  His finger slid into her opening with little resistance.

    “If I could, I would bend you over this chair and fuck you right here… And you would let me, wouldn’t you,  _my pet_?”

    She nodded furiously.  Couldn’t he?  This was his party, after all.

    He took her by the neck and pulled her close.

    “I want to do it.  I want to fuck you and show everyone here that you’re mine… That you belong to me… But there are rules,” he slipped another finger inside her, “I can’t fill you with my seed, but I can leave my mark on your flesh.”

    Malika whimpered.

    “What’s your watchword, little girl?”

    “Katoh.” She said loudly through her mask.

    “And if I can’t hear it?”

    She shook her head.

    “Do you mean that?”

    “ _Maker_ , no.”

    Bull dropped her to the floor and pulled her behind him through the crowd as he approached a free station.  It was a familiar sight and Malika’s favorite—a cross, although this one was freestanding instead of being bolted to a wall.  The Iron Bull called for a platform which was brought to him by two masked staff members and he placed her on top, facing the cross.  Behind her she could hear whispers and amused voices.  The Iron Bull pulled slowly at the top of her bodysuit and when she didn’t protest slid it down her shoulders and below her breasts to expose her back.  Her body shook so intensely she was worried she might fall over, so she was relieved when the Iron Bull reached around and attached her mittens to the rings of the cross with little, silver hooks.

    “I’ve been waiting for this,” he said, “But I wanted to save it for a special occasion.”

    On her back she felt something like a stiff rope slide up and down her flesh.  She couldn’t make out what it could be until the Iron Bull pulled it back and a whip crack sounded behind her.  She gasped and stiffened, but the Iron Bull laughed.

    “Don’t worry, Kadan, I won’t hit too hard,” he whispered in her ear, “But you’ll need some of that salve tonight.”

    He backed away and she braced as the first lash fell.  It was much softer than she had anticipated.  In fact, it wasn’t painful at all.  The spot it hit on her back tingled with pleasure and  she let herself relax as he slowly repeated.  He brought the whip down, again and again, leaving delightful tingles with every stroke, but once she had forgotten her fear, the whip came down harder.  This time the whip stung, but not so hard as to drown out the pleasure it also gave.  She moaned and sighed as he continued, letting her mask muffle her voice.  The entirety of her back stung with pleasure by the time.

    “Hah!” After adjusting to this new intensity, the Iron Bull upped it more.  He let the whip fall on her upper back hard enough that the pain lingered.

    “Good girl,” he said and dropped it again.  Now two spots on her back stung and ached.  She wasn’t used to this.  Aside from stinging when she sat, pain from the Iron Bull usually dissipated as quickly as it was given, but not from the whip.  He whipped her again and she screeched inside her mask.

    “Good girl,” he repeated as he continued his work, “Good girl, take the pain… Let everyone see what a good girl you are.”

    As he continued she involuntarily tried to pull away, but the lashes still came.  She jolted at each one, hyper aware of each stroke and of the growing crowd around them.  She had never felt more transparent—more vulnerable.  With all her might she pulled on her restraints, desperate to flee the pain, to cover herself and retreat, but somehow… somehow this was bliss.  She stopped her struggling, knowing it was futile anyway and let the Iron Bull have his way with her.  Sensing her submission he dropped the whip one last time.  It was so hard and swift that Malika feared her skin might part beneath it, but it didn’t.  She was stronger than she thought.

    The Iron Bull kept her tied to the cross as he applied spindleweed salve to her back, then carefully detached her and helped her back into her bodysuit.  With the ordeal being over, she felt peaceful and heavy, but not entirely without energy or wits.  The Iron Bull took her back to his throne and sat with her on his lap while she recovered.  Looking around, she could see some party guests eyeing her with curiosity, but most had moved onto new activities on their own.  

The music began to play louder and now there was a small crowd dancing.  It wasn’t the kind of dancing she was used to seeing in Orlais.  Bodies were mashed together, writhing to the beat.  It reminded her of Carta after-parties and nights at the Blooming Rose. She looked up at the Iron Bull and smiled beneath her mask.  Finally, a party where they could really dance!

It was then that Malika heard a humming that set her heart pounding.  It sounded familiar, but at first she couldn’t place it… And when she finally did she prayed to the Maker she was wrong.  A crack sounded from the ceiling near the exit, then a pop, and as veil-green crystals appeared above the door her worst fear was realized.  

Guests screamed and ran as the rift opened above them, and in her mitten Malika’s mark burned her clenched fingers.  She jumped off the Iron Bull’s lap and surveyed the scene, taking far longer to jump into action than she ever had before.  Time moved slowly, as if it was waiting just for her.   _Seal the rift_ , she thought,  _I have to seal the rift!_  But once she did… She would be revealed.  No one else in Thedas had the power she wielded.  There was no hiding, and there would be no turning back, but she had to do it.  She was the Maker’s chosen and this was the task she was chosen for.  She turned around and saw the Iron Bull standing, costume handaxe at the ready.  

With a sharp nod, the Iron Bull had all the instruction he needed.  Swift as lightning, he removed her left mitten and helped her with her right.  When she was free she tore her mask off herself.  Instantly Krem was by their side.  He held his own massive warhammer and handed Malika a single dagger.

“It’s all I could find!”

“That’ll do!” Malika shouted over the noise of the rift, “I’m gonna need my other hand anyway!”

The rift opened, casting three green rays around it.  As the demons materialized she looked back at the Iron Bull who looked on with terrified determination.

“I’ll protect you!” she shouted.

“And I’ll protect  _you_!” Bull charged in ahead of her carrying nothing but the handaxe… and the battle began.

Onlookers watched in horror and awe as they took on the demons that poured out of the rift.

“The Inquisitor!” she heard a number of times, “Look at her hand!”

She had to drown it out.  She had to focus.  They knew now… they knew and she knew they would tell, but it didn’t matter.  If she loved the Maker, if she loved this place… if she loved the Iron Bull, she had to seal the rift.  

She held her hand up and channeled all the power she could, drawing on the faces of the Iron Bull’s men and her beautiful memories in the dungeon to fuel her resolve.  The mark burned and tingled more than it ever had before.  She couldn’t tell if this rift was stronger than the others or if her connection to the Pen made the energy burn hotter.  At last, the hum of the rift rose higher and when the time was right, she made a fist, punching it out of existence.

Confusion reigned as the dust settled, and out of the crowd several Inquisition agents made themselves known.  A cloak was thrown over her near-naked body and she was hurriedly rushed off the premises.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Some dialogue has been taken directly from Dragon Age: Inquisition.
> 
> Come play with me on tumblr!  
> Fanfic/Writing/Art: ladysummerisle.tumblr.com  
> Fandom/Personal/Shitposts: malikafuckingcadash.tumblr.com


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